


Lost

by TwistedOver



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Domestic Violence, F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedOver/pseuds/TwistedOver
Summary: Injured in a storm, Ashley wakes up in the world of the Vampire Diaries a thousand years before the start of the show. Taken in as a servant in Mikael's household, Ashley must adapt to the 10th century until she finds a way back to her world. But will she leave the Mikaelsons, especially the surprisingly kind Niklaus, to their monstrous fates?
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s), Elijah Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s), Klaus Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s), Klaus/Original Character(s)
Comments: 189
Kudos: 194





	1. The Storm

Palo, Iowa was the last place you’d expect anything magical to happen. Small town didn’t cut it. It was a gas station, a lake, and not much else. Not unless you were interested in soybean farms or pigs. The woods that surrounded the lake were lovely, though. Much nicer than the patch of trees they had the audacity to call a park in the nearby city where I and half a million other people lived.

Palo’s camping grounds and nature trails were only a fifteen-minute drive from my apartment, which was a short ride on a Saturday. It’d been a warm summer morning, nice enough to brave the cow pastures and keep the window down. With no one else around but the occasional car or truck that passed me by on the opposite lane, I was free to belt out all the wrong words to the pop songs on my phone.

The road into the park itself had been washed out during the last flood. There wasn’t even gravel, only a long dirt road that I wouldn’t dream of going near after a rainstorm. The car and I bounced along for a few miles until we reached the paved road that rounded the northern half of the lake. I followed it to the third set of outdoor pavilions, across from which was a nature trail that took an hour to walk both ways.

Sliding my phone into my arm band, I put in my earbuds and set off at an easy jog to warm up.

Surrounded by trees and a thick canopy, the trail was heavily shaded. My playlist continued uninterrupted in my ears. After five minutes, I sped up. Having taken the trail many times through the last few years, I knew how to pace myself.

For the first half hour, everything was good.

The problem came soon after. I noticed the humidity in the air pick up. What had been a pleasant breeze began to grow stronger, enough to bend the topmost branches. It wasn’t until I had a good break in the canopy overhead that I saw why. Dark clouds had rolled in overhead.

Pulling out my earbuds, I could hear the creaking of the branches and the whistling of leaves as the wind swept through the woods. The sunshine was all but gone, leaving the trail growing darker by the minute. And then came the rumble of distant thunder.

I turned around, hoping to reach my car before what looked like a summer storm opened up above me. At first, I wasn’t too worried. But then the wind blasted through the trees, powerful enough to send fallen leaves and branches skittering across the trail and pull my brown hair from its ponytail. When it was just an occasional burst, I figured I still had time. That changed in a terrifyingly short five minutes, when the blasts didn’t let up—and the trees began to bow. The first raindrops pattered against the dirt and splashed on my bare arms and face.

That’s when I started to worry.

The sky was a sickly dark green in color, and the woods had dimmed. Once distant rumbles of thunder became great booming cracks. The rain came down faster, driven sideways by the wind.

I was still fifteen minutes from my car when the sirens sounded.

My heart, already pounding from the constant thunderstrikes, now went into overdrive. The wind pushed against me, and a part of me was terrified it might pick me up and send me flying. That’s if the lightening didn’t get me first.

I was soaking wet, rain coming down in sheets so thick I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me. The trees were groaning, the branches bent near horizontal from the driving winds. Great limbs cracked and split apart from the tops of the trees. The sky was black.

I kept thinking it had to let up—but it didn’t. It got worse. Half of a great oak tree split apart and tipped over a mere ten feet in front of me.

And then came the sound of a freight train that shook the very sky itself.

The trees to the west were coming out of the ground and falling eastward. The ground began to shudder. The wind was a constant, screaming roar, rushing so fast it was almost impossible to suck in a breath. It was a physical force, driving me off the trail and into the woods. The rain pelted into me like a thousand tiny pebbles. But the worst were the stray branches now flying through the air.

Finally, I ran into a massive tree with a trunk as wide as my car. I slipped around and crouched behind it, finding respite from the worst of the wind. But it still swirled around the base of the tree and tried to knock me down. I covered my head with my arms, trembling as I was buffeted by wind and rain. Wincing every time I was slapped by a stray leaf or whipped by a loose branch.

The roar of the train grew louder. Despite my cover, the wind was strong enough to knock me down. I laid flat against forest floor, curling my fingers into moss and mud, hearing the woods crashing down around me.

The tree that had sheltered me let out a groan loud enough to hear over the oncoming train. There was a great snap and creak above me and then—

Nothing.

* * *

My head was broken.

That was the only thing that could explain the shooting pain exploding from my skull. An agony so acute, bright lights burst behind my eyes. I tried to move, and then stopped when my stomach gave a violent heave. Opening my eyes a crack was like driving a screwdriver through my temple. I immediately gave up that idea and laid motionless as my brain throbbed.

A stream or river burbled nearby. The wind that had been so savage was now no more than a gentle breeze whispering through the grass and rustling leaves. A bird whistled, and a moment later was answered by a low trill. The smell of earth and grass was strong, and the air tasted clean.

Once I’d more or less grew used to the great bruise that had once been my head, I tried opening my eyes again. Enduring the sharp stab of pain, I saw it was once again bright out. Risking my stomach’s ire, I used my arms to push myself up.

The nausea returned, and I gagged a bit, but eventually managed to sit on my knees. I had to pause long enough to breath and let the urge to vomit pass, until I was able to straighten up and take a good look around me.

Wild grass covered the ground around me, interspersed with tiny yellow and white flowers and patches of clover. A good distance to my right, I could make out a narrow brook cutting through the land, it’s rushing waters glinting beneath a midday sun. To my left were a line of trees stretching out far as I could see. A similar wall of oak, heather, and firs stood a short way across water.

There were no signs of the trail.

I couldn’t remember there ever being any kind of brook off the main lake, but then figured it must have rained so hard it had formed a temporary stream. It had certainly felt as if another lake was falling from the sky as I’d stood in the center of the tempest.

Tenderly, I reached up and pressed against the worst of the aches around my head. There were some sharp explosions of pain, but none of my bones shifted. Just a bad bump, then. With all the debris flying around, something must have whacked me upside the head and knocked me out.

I wasn’t sure how I went from the woods right off the trail to a small grassy bank, but maybe I hadn’t lost consciousness. Maybe I’d wandered and didn’t remember. Not the most comforting thought.

Either way, I had to try and find the trail and get back to my car. If I still _had_ a car. A tree could’ve fallen on it for all I knew.

With that happy thought in mind, I forced myself to my feet and, teeth grit against my pounding head and still woozy stomach, began a slow walk back towards the trees.

I stayed within sight of the brook as I walked along the edge of the woods, seeking something like a path. When I was walking for more than fifteen minutes, I pulled my phone free of my armband and, pleased to see it was still working, tried to access a map app. I couldn’t be too far from the main camping grounds, after all. I’d already been on my way back when the storm hit.

A no signal message came up. I glanced at the bars and cursed when I saw they were empty. The storm must have knocked out the towers. Sighing, I pushed my phone back into my arm strap.

It was another twenty minutes before I found it. It wasn’t a very well-tended trail—the grass was overgrown, and branches stuck right out into it—but it was definitely a path through the woods. I turned away from the stream and began my trek through the trees.

As I walked, I was somewhat surprised I didn’t see more evidence of damage from the storm. The fallen limbs and logs I saw were already overgrown with moss, and there didn’t seem to be any fresh wounds on the trees. Further in, birds sang to each other. I passed a great oak and saw a giant web spanning several branches. Branch cracked and bushes rustled in the distance. The woods seemed more alive than I remembered. Of course, I was usually listening to music as I jogged.

The woods grew denser, the trees packed so tightly together it was a wonder they’d managed to grow at all. The light grew dim, again, but this time from the thick canopy above. The forest glowed an ethereal green where sunlight filtered through the leaves.

I realized I was on a different trail when I’d walked over a half hour. By this time, my head was smarting and my mouth and throat were parched. The temperature had kicked up a notch, too. My hair stuck to my forehead and the back of my neck as I perspired.

It was another fifteen minutes or so before I saw the first stirrings of civilization. If you could call it that.

I found the fence, first. Although, it was unlike any fence I’d ever seen. It was made from long, thick branches, but hadn’t otherwise been cut or shaved. I stopped beside it, wondering why the park had built such an odd, primitive structure. But I was too thirsty to linger, so I went on.

Some of the forest had been culled, but whoever had done it left the stumps in the ground. The woods continued to thin out. Soon, I heard birds clucking. Another few minutes led me up a steep hill. It wasn’t till I reached the top that I found the dwelling that belonged to the owner of the fence.

I stopped, dumbstruck. What stood before me was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It had walls and a roof, so I supposed it must be a house. The walls were made of great planks of hand-hewn wood, the spaces between sealed with what had to be clay or mud. But it was the roof that made me boggle. It was thatched—grass was layered on top instead of shingles, and I could just make out the branches sticking over of the edge that must have formed the frame.

It was like something out of a medieval period film.

What the hell was it doing in the middle of the woods off Palo lake?

My brain reached for a rational explanation. Maybe some kind of movie was being made? Though I had no idea why they were shooting out here instead of Canada or California. I suppose it could have been built for some kind of live reenactment. But Iowa had never been home to medieval buildings like these—indigenous tribes had lived here until the area was colonized in the eighteen-hundreds.

I stared, unable to puzzle out the reason for its existence.

And then a door creaked opened—and things went from bizarre to impossible.

The man was as weird as the house. Like the house, his clothes were out of another time altogether. A brown woolen tunic that fell to the knees over loose linen trousers. Shoulder length blonde hair framed a face that I recognized almost immediately. But it _couldn’t_ be.

Except it was. Joseph Morgan, the actor who’d played the villainous Niklaus Mikaelson on the Vampire Diaries and the Originals, was walking around in period clothes having just emerged from a medieval hut.

My first guess was right, I must have stumbled onto a film set. I wondered where all the equipment and crew were. I hadn’t seen anything around. Maybe it was further back in the trees? I tried peering into the forest but didn’t see anything or anyone else.

Meanwhile, Joseph stopped just short of the door and was staring back at me, eyes wide and apparently as surprised.

The set must have been a secret. Probably to keep curious fans away. I offered a sheepish smile. “Uh, hi!” I glanced around again for any cameras or personal, but they were well hidden.

Joseph continued to stare, wide eyes roaming me up and down. He wasn’t leering, exactly—instead he looked shocked. As if I had popped out of the woods stark naked.

I cleared my throat and, resisting the urge to tug self-consciously on my tank top, slunk closer to where he stood just outside the medieval hut. “I’m Ashley. Ashley Banning. I, uh, got caught in that storm that came through a little bit ago?” It occurred to me I had no idea how long I’d been out, but I’d been walking a while. I tried to ignore the way Joseph Morgan was staring at me like I was some alien creature and forged ahead with a smile. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the lake? I’d like to find my car and get home.”

His mouth closed as his eyes narrowed. After a moment, his lips parted and—well, he spoke. Unfortunately, it was no language I’d ever heard.

I stared in return. “Is this—some kind of method acting?”

He paused and then spoke again, but not in English.

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered. My heart was pounding faster, and not from being star struck. I wiped my hands on my jogging shorts—Joseph Morgan glanced down at the movement and his eyes bulged again before his eyes snapped back to my face—and tried, “Can I get that in English, though?”

We entered an awkward staring contest at that point. Neither of us spoke as we stared at one another.

And then the door opened again, and another familiar figure walked out. Claire Holt, wearing a woolen dress that fit with the dark age décor. Her long blonde hair hung loose, except for where it was braided to either side of her face. She stopped and started just outside the door, looking between me and Joseph.

Okay. This must have been an Originals or Vampire Diaries reunion. I had no idea where the cameras were, or why Joseph was refusing to break character, but at least it explained the medieval hut and clothes. They must have been filming a scene before the Originals were vampires, back when they were Viking settlers in the 10th century.

I still had no idea why they were in Iowa, but whatever.

And then Claire spoke to Joseph in the same language—Norse, an increasingly frantic part of my brain numbly informed me—while she stared at me, eyes wide with alarm.

I had no idea what to say. I mean, they couldn’t still be acting some kind of scene. I’d have ruined their shot. I twisted around, searching once more for any camera equipment. By the time I twisted back around, Claire had disappeared back into the house. I could hear her shouting.

Two more men came out of the house at that point. I wondered how they all fit inside what looked like a cramped space. I recognized both. There was Daniel Gillies in a blue tunic, his long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Nathaniel Buzolic was just behind him, hair similarly long and dress similarly medieval.

They both gave me the same surprised once-over Joseph had done, and then Daniel was marching across the yard. When he reached Joseph, he drew up even and spoke. Not in English, though, because I’d apparently lost my mind.

When I didn’t answer, Joseph turned his head and said something to Daniel. Hopefully he was telling him that I didn’t speak Norse.

I was starting to feel a little lightheaded. “Would somebody tell me what’s going on?” I pleaded.

Another look was exchanged between Joseph and Daniel. Daniel spoke again, but whatever he said was just as incomprehensible to me. Behind him, Nathaniel piped in, and whatever he said had Daniel throwing a sour look over his shoulder and a sharp word before turning back to me.

Why weren’t they breaking character? It was ridiculous.

“Look. Can you tell me how to get back to the lake?” I tried, motioning in a big circle with my hands.

They watched me with brows drawn tight. Joseph leaned towards Daniel and muttered something. Daniel shook his head.

Daniel took several steps forward. He pointed to himself and said, quite clearly, “Elijah.”

The edges of my vision were darkening. Squeezing my eyes shut, I swayed unsteadily in place and tried to concentrate on breathing. This was insane.

A hand on my shoulder had my eyes popping open. Daniel— _not_ Elijah—was staring down at me, concern in the taut pull of his brows and small frown on his face. He spoke again, though it was pointless if they insisted on not using English.

“This isn’t funny,” I said, anger tightening my voice.

Daniel frowned. Twisting back towards the house, he called out the second word I recognized. Mother.

I was both surprised and yet not as the woman who’d played Esther walked out. I watched, bleakly, as she plucked up the skirt of her red woolen dress out of the dirt and mud and strode towards us. When she spoke, it wasn’t English.

While the four of them conversed in old Norse, I realized I was dreaming. Why would a production of Vampire Diaries or the Originals or whatever be out in the middle of Iowa. And why would the whole cast stay in character if someone stumbled on their set. And how the hell would they all know old Norse?

I was still unconscious in the middle of the woods. Fantastic.

When Esther took my face in her hands and stared into my eyes, I tried to force myself awake. I’d always been able to before once I realized I was dreaming. Except this time, it wasn’t working. Esther tilted my head this way and that before she prodded the back of my skull.

I yelped and jerked out of her hold, covering the bump with a hand.

She said something very dry, one brow arching.

I wondered at the fact I could feel pain in a dream and not wake up. Could that happen? It must, because the alternative was _impossible_.

Esther motioned with her hands and started back towards the hut. House. I stared after her, confused, before she twisted and motioned again.

Sighing, I trudged after.

I had to pass by…Elijah and…Ni-freaking-klaus. And then Kol. Each one staring at me as I walked by. My pulse was pounding—which was doing nothing good for my headache, and I was tingling all over. I rubbed my arms before Esther opened the door with another tortured creak. She ushered me inside.

The smell of wood and hay assaulted me, and my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness. There were no windows, or if there were they were closed. Instead, a hearth of mud and possibly clay had been fashioned in the form of a half-dome in the corner. A small fire lent what little illumination the single room had. A pile of firewood laid beside it. Standing next to that was Rebekah, eyes still wide as she met mine. Higher up was a loft, accessible by a log that had wedges for steps chopped out of it. A small head peaked over the side and wide brown eyes blinked down at me.

Esther guided me to a table made from two hewn planks of wood that had been set on a couple of stumps. A long bench made of similarly rough-cut wood sat beside it. Across the top were various wooden dishes filled with simple fair—bread, bowls of porridge, and baked fish. A longer chest that doubled as seating were lined along the wall on the other side of the table. Esther pushed me to the bench and pressed me down.

Once I was seated, she began pulling down herbs that were hanging from the loft’s rafters. Esther spoke and Rebekah cautiously stepped around me to the chest pressed against the wall, lifting the top. She pulled a folded dress back out. She hesitated before laying it across a clear space on the table.

I stared at the undyed woolen dress and then looked back to Rebekah before pointing at it and then pointing at me.

Rebekah nodded.

Right. I was wearing running shorts and a tank top. Hardly appropriate medieval wear for a woman. No wonder everybody kept staring at me.

Standing up, I pulled my phone out of the armband and set it onto the table. I unfastened the armband next, to the familiar rip of the velcro. The sound had Esther and Rebekah both starting. I gave an awkward smile before dropping it onto the table and picking up the dress. Unfolding it, I slipped it on overhead. It was abrasive, and I already had the urge to itch. I summoned a smile anyway. “Thanks.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Rebekah returned my smile. She went back to the door and called outside. Soon after, the men trooped back in. Elijah and Niklaus took in my new dress with approval easing their features. Kol made another comment that, apart from a similarly annoyed look from Rebekah and Elijah, was otherwise ignored.

Esther had a mortar and pestle out and ground herbs together with quick, sure movements that spoke of long practice. And strength. As soon as she tapped the pestle against the side, she picked up a small clay pitcher and poured out a small stream of some thick liquid. Probably oil. She mixed it in with her fingers before returning to me.

Scooping up the mixture with her fingers, she placed the mortar down on the table and lifted my hair and rubbed the concoction onto my scalp. I hissed at the sting, but she grabbed my shoulder with an iron grip and held me still when I tried to move away. Her next words had a scolding ring to them.

A brief glance around me showed everyone watching me, Kol with a smirk.

Rebekah placed a wooden bowl filled with a few lumps of porridge and a slice of bread in front of me. She followed up with a carved spoon and cup. The latter of which was filled with water from a clay pitcher.

I picked up the cup and gulped down several mouthfuls, relaxing as at least one of my problems found relief. When I set it down, Rebekah immediately poured more into the cup. “Thanks.”

She gave a one word answer I took to mean you’re welcome.

My stomach was still tender, but not wanting to offend anyone, I picked apart a piece of bread and ate. It was staler than I was used to, definitely not processed food, but it tasted alright. Everyone was still watching me as I took an experimental nibble of a spoonful of porridge. It was bland, but I took several more bites before finishing off my bread and water.

Standing at the end of the table, Esther pointed to herself and said, “Esther.” She pointed to each one of her sons and introduced them one by one—Elijah, Niklaus, and Kol. Then indicated Rebekah as the blonde stoked the fire. Rebekah glanced over her shoulder and offered a timid smile as she was introduced. Esther finished by looking above at the loft and saying, “Henrik,” as the small head peaked over the edge again.

It was no mystery what they all waited expectantly for as they stared at me. “Ashley.”

“Ashley,” Esther repeated, brows pressed together in thought.

The room was hot and stuffy from the fire and an already warm afternoon. The thick woolen dress now draped around me didn’t help matters. Apart from their hair sticking to their slickened skin, the others looked comfortable with the heat.

Gazing around the table, I wondered when I was going to wake up from this insane dream when the door opened once more. Squinting against the sunlight, my eyes adjusted in time to see the last two Original family members walk in.

Mikael paused inside the threshold, eyes narrowing as they settled on me. I barely noticed Finn following behind him.

Mikael looked to Esther. When he spoke, his voice was hard and demanding. Esther answered back, much calmer than I’d be if a man prone to violence turned those harsh eyes on me. Mikael stepped further into the hut as Esther continued talking. I heard my name come up as Esther motioned to me.

I fought the impulse to curl inward to make myself smaller as Mikael’s cold stare settled back on me. His sights flickered back to Esther, speaking again.

Esther nodded and answered.

Mikael snorted before crossing towards the table, and sitting near the opposite end to me, nearest to the fire.

His gaze slid again to me as Rebekah hurried to set a plate and cup before him and Finn, who joined him.

Picking up a piece of bread, Mikael leaned forward. In a sleeveless tunic, his muscular arms looked both impressive and intimidating as he ripped the bread apart.

Then he spoke—to me. Whatever he said, it flowed differently from the words of the others. When he finished, I blinked. “Sorry. I don’t understand.”

Lips falling, his brows cinched together. He sopped some porridge onto his bread before turning to Esther and speaking in the same language the others used.

Elijah joined in. Mikael watched him until he was finished, and then replied. Whatever he said had Elijah and Finn nodding.

The conversation went on this way, and I was either ignored or watched by the others. I kept trying to will myself to wake up, but nothing happened. Instead, I sat in the heat and endured the steady throbbing of my head. My eyes would close here and there, and I’d have to work to open them back up.

Around the forth time I rested my eyes, I felt Esther’s freakishly strong grip on my shoulder. Startling upright, I found the rest of the table was watching me again, causing my already tender stomach to tighten. I turned to Esther, and she motioned for me to follow.

I got up carefully from the bench, mindful of the skirts, and followed her a few feet until we reached the log that led up to the loft. I eyed it and the roughly hewn steps carved out of it before turning disbelieving eyes on Esther. Esther made a shooing motion with her hands and spoke words I couldn’t understand.

She wanted me to climb up.

Wondering how much weirder the dream could get, I put one foot into a hewn wedge and leaned forward until I was grabbing onto the log. I then crawled my way awkwardly up, grasping onto the edge of the loft when I made it halfway. I used it to steady myself up the rest of the way.

I found a giant linen mattress stuffed with hay laying across the top—along with a little boy. He couldn’t have been much older than eight or nine. As soon as I crawled over the mattress, Esther called him back down. He managed dropping from the log far easier than I had.

It was even hotter up here then it had been below, but I was so dizzy and tired from my climb I just laid down. The straw poked through the linen and the wool to prick at my skin. I closed my eyes and did my best to ignore it and the powerful smell of hay.

As I drifted, foreign words in deep but familiar voices volleyed back and forth beneath me. I wondered how my unconscious mind apparently knew so much old Norse.

And then I wondered nothing at all.


	2. A New Normal

I was surrounded.

In a darkness so black I had to blink to confirm my eyes were open, I could hear several bodies breathing around me. Someone’s arm was pressed against mine as their breath stirred my hair. I was drenched in sweat, and where I wasn’t being stabbed by tiny needle-like bits of straw, I itched from the wool sticking to my skin. My head still ached, though not as badly as when I’d woken near the brook. My neck had developed its own strain from sleeping without a pillow. Worst of all, my bladder announced its urgent business with me.

I remembered my dream—a dream I was still stuck within. A dream that had taken on new depths of insanity. I looked over, and in the dark made out the faintest outline of someone lying beside me. More than that I couldn’t see.

This was far from my queen sized bed back home. Tempted as I was to lie still and not move or breathe as fictional characters slept beside me on a giant straw mattress, my bladder wasn’t about to let that happen.

Thankfully, I was lying close to the log that led up, so I wouldn’t have to crawl over anyone. Of course, I supposed that meant they had all crawled over _me_. I tried not to think about that as I flipped onto my stomach and inched my way towards the makeshift staircase leading down.

As I reached the log and wrapped my hands uncertainly around it, I had the distinct impression I risked breaking my neck. But it was either go down or have an accident, so I pushed onto my belly and slid. The first deep notch caught me in the chest. I tried to slink without the edges digging into my ribs, and as soon as I guessed I was halfway, went ahead and leaned my legs off to the side and dropped.

It was barely a few inches, but in the darkness felt like taking a leap off a roof. My breath exploded out in relief as my sneakers hit the dirt floor.

Someone shifted up in the loft. I froze.

When nothing more sounded from up above, I moved carefully across the long room towards the door. Arms held out before me, I walked until the wood of the wall pressed against my fingertips. A soft line of silvery light on the floor guided me to the door. It was another moment’s search for the handle.

The door was heavier than any I’d ever opened before and let out a tremendous groan. Gritting my teeth, I pulled it only as far as it would take me to slip through. It shut behind me with another wailing creak.

It was brighter outside than in the house. The moon was almost full, though it was falling beneath the treetops. There was light to see by within reason, but the ground was uneven. I minded my step as I crossed the yard towards the nearest of the trees. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a sprained ankle or worse.

There was probably the medieval equivalent of an outhouse nearby, but nothing revealed itself at a glance. I didn’t have the time to look for one in the dark. Reaching a tree, I let out a breath and lifted the dress’ skirts before yanking down my shorts and panties. As I squatted, I wondered if I was actually having an accident where I was sleeping, then decided it didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything I could do about it. If I didn’t relieve myself, I’d have an accident anyway. Visions of poison ivy dancing in my head, I hated the idea of grabbing leaves without knowing what they were, but I didn’t have a whole lot of options. Finished, I was careful to move away from the tree before putting all my clothes back to rights.

I wondered if there was a well or something nearby, but like the outhouse, had no idea where it might be. I’d never missed indoor plumbing more in my life.

Moving away from the trees and back towards the house, I found myself at a loss of what to do. I was too awake to attempt going back to sleep. I wasn’t about to climb back into bed with strangers—even if they were figments of my imagination. I couldn’t wander around in the dark, and the door was too loud to go back inside.

In the end, I drifted over to a patch of ground and sat. It was much cooler outside than in, and the stars were startlingly clear despite the moon disappearing behind the trees. As minutes ticked by, with nothing more exciting happening than a few crickets chirruping, the more the inkling that no dream was so vivid or so boring began to grow. Hugging my knees, I stared into the darkness and contemplated madness.

What if I were comatose? Even if I were, wouldn’t the same dream rules apply, minus waking up? Would I feel pain? Feel the wind caressing my face? Smell the grass and cool earth beneath me? Feel the stiff wool draped around me? Would time pass without anything happening except the croon of a lonely cricket?

Maybe I was dead, and this was some strange illusion my soul was inhabiting.

Reaching down, I ripped out a handful of grass and began plucking individual blades, stretching them between my fingers, feeling the smooth texture as one after another slid between the pads of my fingertips. Wiping my hands free of the rest, I tried to lay on my back and was reminded of my bruised head. Rolling onto my side, I stared off into the woods before closing my eyes.

With nothing to do, I faded in and out of a light doze. Every time I opened my eyes, the world around me was brighter than before. Eventually the sky over the trees had lightened to the deep, royal purple of oncoming morning.

The crow of a rooster had me sitting back up, peering off behind the house where I could now make out other, smaller structures.

The house’s door groaned open as I stood and brushed off my skirt. Dressed in the same blue dress from the day before, Rebekah slipped outside, a basket draped over each arm. Catching sight of me, her eyes widened and her steps faltered. After a moment, she approached, leather shoes scratching through the dirt.

Rebekah slid one of the baskets off and held it out to me, staring with big, guileless eyes. I cautiously reached out and accepted. It was heavy, and a glance showed it was filled with seeds and grain. Her lips turned into a brief smile before she turned on the ball of her foot and started across the yard. When I didn’t follow immediately after, she threw a look over her shoulder and tilted her head.

I hurried to catch up, having to bunch up the skirts so they didn’t restrict my stride.

Rebekah led me down the other side of the hill where a few smaller huts stood. Like the main house their roofs were thatched, and they were made of wood that had probably belonged to the stumps I’d passed the day before. They were considerably smaller, however. The building Rebekah now led me towards was the shorter but wider of the two.

The door was far tinier than the house’s, and we both had to duck to clear the head jamb.

The inside had my nose crinkling as I got an unsuspecting whiff of stale hay mixed with bird feces. On several shelves were dozens of chickens of various colors and sizes. The majority were content sitting on their nests while a few pecked around on the ground.

Rebekah went down the line, reaching under the chickens and claiming one or two eggs and setting them in her basket. Occasionally one of the birds would flap its wings and cluck in protest. Rebekah ignored their fussing. The basket steadily filled up with eggs as varied in size and color as the birds that laid them.

When she was done going down all the shelves and shifting through the hay, she guided me back out of what I now understood to be the coop. A couple adventurous brown hens came pecking after us. Rebekah ignored them, instead grabbing handfuls of seed and grain from the basket I held and tossing them out around the coop. The chickens excitedly chased after. After repeating the action several more times, she led me back up the hill towards the house.

The sky had brightened, the golden pink blush of a sunrise now painting the horizon. The entire household was up by the time we returned. Mikael and Finn were outside, a bow and quiver of arrows slung over their shoulders. Rebekah greeted them as we approached. Finn replied with a smile, glancing at me before returning to his preparations. Mikael stared, saying nothing as Rebekah led me inside.

The fire had been relit, the flames casting wavering firelight over the rest of the room. The men were at the table, conversing as they ate what looked like the last of the porridge and bread. Esther was tending the fire and had several pans laid on a small, crude standing rack. She looked up as we approached.

Rebekah led me over to her, plucking eggs from the basket as soon as we reached her mother and handing them to her. Esther grabbed a bowl and cracked them on the side before adding the whites and yolk. The whole basket was gone before she grabbed several more herbs from overhead and added their leaves to the bowl. With a wooden fork, she mixed them together and poured them into the pans waiting over the fire.

As the familiar scent of frying eggs filled the small house, Rebekah took the basket of bird feed from me and set it on a narrower shelf that must have served as a kitchen counter. She plucked a large bowl from a second shelf overhead and placed it down. From underneath, she dragged a small wooden barrel out. Inside, I was surprised to see coarsely ground flour. She measured several smaller bowl-fulls of it into the larger. Making a hollow dip in the center, she opened several clay pots and added pinches of the ingredients inside. Next came the pitcher and a small bit of water. Afterwards, she began stirring the mixture together.

Pulling out the stirring rod, Rebekah took a final handful of flour and spread it onto the shelf. As Rebekah lifted the firmer mixture that I now recognized as dough out of the bowl and onto the dusted shelf to knead, Esther pulled the pans out of the fire. She brought them to the table, serving the men and Henrik.

It was clear this was the morning routine. Rebekah beginning the next meal, Esther serving the current, and the men eating. In fact, I was willing to bet this was the routine for all meals.

As soon as the men were done with their eggs they began to stand up and file outside—even little Henrik.

Esther looked at me expectantly and I followed her to the table where she began to clear away the plates and scraps of food. After a moment, I followed her example. Once the scrapings were placed into a dirty bucket and the wooden plates and utensils piled to the side, Rebekah paused in her kneading and grabbed three more clean plates before laying them out on the table. She and Esther sat, and feeling like I was playing an elaborate game of simon says, I followed their example. Esther then divvied out what remained of the porridge, bread, and eggs between us.

That was how the day went. I followed Rebekah and Esther around the narrow space that served as a kitchen, helping them prepare meals. When the dough was ready, Rebekah guided me to a large mud and clay dome outside, which turned out to be the oven. She used what looked like a giant paddle to set the balls of dough inside. The dishes were also washed outside in buckets using wooden scrapers and water—no dishwash soap that I could see. Which, not gonna lie, put me off using the dinnerware. They dried on a low table set near the outside of the house.

Inside we made a kind of stew using wrinkled potatoes and leeks that needed the rotten spots cut off them and a side of some kind of meat that had been salted and needed to be rinsed off. As the day grew longer, the fire only made the midday heat worse, until I was sweating buckets. It was a relief to go outside with Rebekah, where she guided me further from the house on the hill to a paddock of hogs.

I’d never appreciated how big pigs were until I was feet from six of them rooting and snuffing in the dirt. The smallest came up to my waist and was at least as wide. Their feet sunk into the ground as they turned it, and the smell had my eyes watering. The hogs got the remnants of breakfast, and likely last evening’s dinner.

Afterward, Rebekah guided me back to the oven to retrieve the paddles of bread. They had grown into round, golden loaves that smelled divine—especially having just come from the hogs.

The cooking continued into the late afternoon. I followed Rebekah out again to retrieve some fresh herbs from a garden kept to the western side of the house. She retrieved some sprigs of basil and mint before cutting stalks of chard. She then pulled up an onion from the ground, shaking a bit of the dirt off. All of these went into the basket on my arm before she guided me inside.

The fresh food was washed and added last to the pot, along with a handful of dried cloves.

Soon after, with a bit of pantomiming, I learned the other building near the coop was indeed the outhouse. Its toilet was little more than a closed box-like bench with a hole cut in the middle. Spying cobwebs in the corners, I tried not to picture spiders waiting inside the box as I hurried to do my business.

As the sun began to sink beneath the trees, the men—apart from Mikael and Finn—returned from wherever they’d gone off to. After trooping inside, talking with one another, they made immediately for the table. Rebekah was already grabbing the dishes we’d washed earlier in the day and setting them down before her brothers. The stew that had spent the day simmering was ladled into bowels while the bread that had sat for a few hours was set in the center of the table. A cask was opened, and the smell of beer filled the air as it was poured into a pitcher.

The talk turned more spirited as the meal went on. Rebekah kept the cups filled while Esther tended the stew. I sat on a small stool in the corner. It was the first time I’d had the opportunity the whole day to sit and think.

This was no dream. I had no idea what was happening, but no dream would go on this long or be this detailed. I’d somehow ended up transported into the past. But not just the past—another world’s version of it. A fictional version of medieval times.

Midway through supper Mikael and Finn returned. A rabbit and a couple of squirrels dangled off their belts. These were handed over to Esther before joining the other men at the table, and Rebekah bustled to serve them.

The talk initially died down a bit as Mikael sat. Soon he was speaking, and when Elijah responded perfunctorily, I realized he was questioning them. Niklaus, Kol, and Henrik were silent—content, I supposed, to let Elijah speak for them. When Mikael’s interrogation ended, the conversation picked up again.

They didn’t leave the table when finished, simply sat and continued talking as twilight fell. Candles were lit and the conversations continued. Once it was clear they were finished eating, Esther served the stew to Rebekah and me as we sat on stools by the low shelf, and we split what bread was left. A pitcher of beer was passed between us.

But even though it was apparently our turn to eat, that didn’t mean Rebekah was done refilling cups. She had to put down her bowl to refill her brothers’ cups before returning to her stew.

The beer was among the weakest I’d ever tasted. The stew was passable, though the meat was tough and salty. Tonight’s bread was better than yesterday’s and soaked up the stew like a sponge. Given the work that had went into making it, I ate gratefully.

Rebekah grabbed a candle and motioned that I should follow her after I finished my bowl. We went outside, and by the rising moon and candlelight, repeated the act of washing all the dishes. When the plates were set aside to dry, she guided me again to the outhouse. Going in the dark was an even more harrowing experience than it had been during the day as my imagination helpfully conjured all sorts of insects that could be waiting inside the hole.

Back inside, Esther was back at work, this time cleaning the rabbit. Rebekah took one of the squirrels and passed another to me before picking up a crude knife and cutting into the carcass.

This was one task I couldn’t replicate by simply watching once. I had to hold up my hands and shake my head when she tried to pass me the knife. She and Esther frowned at me before Rebekah took my squirrel and, when she was done gutting her squirrel, started in on mine. I folded my hands and squeezed, my neck and face tingling as my sights fell to the floor. When I managed to lift my gaze, I found Mikael watching me, that same hard glint in his eyes. I quickly looked away.

How long before I would be expected to leave? The family obviously wasn’t very wealthy. What the hell was I supposed to do when they got tired of keeping me around? Gutting a squirrel wasn’t going to be the only thing I had no clue how to do.

How had I gotten here, and how did I get home? There had to be a reason I’d appeared in this place with these people. My gaze flickered to Esther. She was a witch. Maybe she had the power to send me back. But how did I communicate that with her before I overstayed my welcome?

Maybe having another pair of hands around was all they’d need to let me stay. Then I could learn enough of their language until I could communicate my situation. Which wouldn’t be easy—I’d had to retake introductory Spanish in high school. Of course, I hadn’t had the motivation to learn like I did now. Being immersed in the language had to make it—if not easier—quicker.

But not quick enough. I’d have to stay useful.

With the rabbit and squirrels cleaned, Esther packed them in salt and stored them with the rest of the meat.

Given how early everyone rose, it wasn’t long before Esther took a protesting Henrik up to bed. Rebekah stood up soon after, with another expectant look at me. I ended up following her up the log to the loft. Apparently not only did the women not eat with the men, but they went to bed before them, too.

I discovered it had been Rebekah I’d woken up next to, since she took the space beside me again. She pulled her dress off, revealing a light linen shift. I didn’t have anything but my shorts and tank top, and since I figured that might not be considered modest enough, stayed in my dress as I laid down. Of course, the loft was hot, keeping me sweaty and uncomfortable.

Unable to sleep, I listened to the foreign conversation below and wondered how the hell I’d ended up in the past of a television show. Now that I wasn’t following Rebekah around on my grand tour of medieval peasant life, I couldn’t think of anything else. Not that it did me any good. No explanations came to mind.

My pointless and frustrated musings were put to an end when the loft shifted a bit. Looking over, I learned that instead of taking the makeshift stairs, the guys simply grabbed the edge and lifted themselves up. Or that was what Klaus did, at least. The light from below was dim, but none of the other men had that light-colored hair. Nor were they built quite as lean, a feature I got a particularly good look at as he pulled his tunic up over his head. Klaus’ skin glowed from the faint candlelight, the contours of long, lithe muscles shifting as he settled down on the mattress besides Rebekah.

It struck me then. I was lying in bed with two Original vampires and the Original witch. I’d spent the day with Rebekah Mikaelson—a fact that had been easy to forget as she went about such mundane business. There was none of the cool, assured vampire I remembered from the show about her. Just a hard-working teenage girl doing her best to take care of her family.

I hadn’t spent as much time with the other Originals, but Niklaus hadn’t lost his temper and murdered anyone so far. Elijah had been far from the debonair gentleman he was portrayed as on the show. Elbows on the table and dirt under his fingernails, he’d laughed and conversed genially with his family. Finn had smiled as easily and, while a bit reserved, wasn’t nearly so stoic as he’d become. Kol was the only one remotely resembling his vampiric counterpart, but mostly for the sly glint to his eye as he’d interject a word here and there.

The only truly frightening one of the group was the steely-eyed Mikael.

The night went on, the others gradually joining us, pulling themselves up the same way Niklaus had. Left to the end, I rolled on my side and settled my head on my arm and squeezed my eyes shut. I was tired, but my mind was buzzing with questions. What was happening back in the real world? Was I missing? Was I dead? Was I stuck here for good? When would the events of the show happen? What should I do when they did? Would they even keep me around that long?

It ended up being a very long night.


	3. The Festival

The days passed, both too quickly and not quick enough.

I had gone from typing at the office to tending animals and cooking over an open flame. I soon learned the joy of fetching one’s own water and bathing in the river. Two weeks after I’d arrived Rebekah and I had the delightful task of washing the household’s clothes. We’d had to beat them on rocks to get rid of the dirt. I’d gone to sleep with unbelievably sore arms.

I was no closer to any answers. My only fortune being that, so long as I worked without complaint, I had a roof, a bed, and food. So I worked—sun up to sun down. More tasks began falling to me—serving at meals, rather than Rebekah or Esther. Gathering the eggs and feeding the chickens and hogs. Washing the dishes. All the little chores that used to be Rebekah’s slowly passed to me.

Learning the language was as difficult as I’d feared. After a few rough starts, Rebekah began to tell me the names of objects. Everything I learned revolved around my chores. The words for the types of food, animals, water, ale, furniture. She taught me to say good morning and good night. Please and thank you. I began to take these little bits of knowledge and store them as best I could. Industrious and obedient as Rebekah was, I learned she wasn’t very patient. She didn’t like to repeat a word or phrase too many times. It was on me to remember them without the luxury of writing them down.

The men were all polite, but mostly ignored me.

A few weeks into my stay, I learned where they went every day but the weekends. Kol had left his lunch behind, so Rebekah and I delivered it to the fields where the bulk of the crops were grown. It was odd to think of the fearsome Original vampires as farmers—but that was what they spent their days doing. Mikael and Finn hunted, but the rest tended acres of wheat and corn.

It appeared the entire village shared the land where they farmed. The fields were divided into parcels that went to certain families—or so I guessed from the different groups working them. There were dozens of other men tending to nearby crops. I didn’t actually speak to anyone, however. Not that I really could have.

I’d also spent my first night in the caves as, presumably, werewolves roamed the woods. Aside from more people gathering in the narrow, uneven caverns, nothing of much interest happened. I stayed with the Mikaelsons the whole night, having a harder time than usual sleeping despite the cooler temperature. No one approached the family, but there wasn’t much mingling overall. People seemed content to keep to their own groups.

Although I knew from the show there was a village, I had no reason to go there.

That was about to change.

* * *

That morning had an air of excitement about it. Esther made fresh porridge while it was still dark out, so it was already an occasion of some note. But I knew something was up when none of the men left for the fields. Instead, they sat around the table, spirits high as they talked. Turned out they were waiting for Rebekah and me to finish our chores.

As soon as the dishes were washed, everyone gathered outside. Packs of rolled up furs were tied to Finn and Elijah’s backs. Mikael had a pouch and passed out some coin to Esther and their sons. Before I could wonder why, Rebekah took my arm and off we set for the trail that led to the fields.

It was an especially hot day. If time lined up with my world, we were well into late August. But for all that, the woods were peaceful beneath a clear blue sky. The shaded trail staved off the brightest of the sun’s rays for our walk, all the way until we reached the fields.

I blinked in shock. The last time I had visited, golden stalks of hay had stretched as far as the eye could see. Now, those stalks were gone, tiny shoots left in their place. It was as if someone had taken a lawnmower to the fields. The corn was similarly empty of ears, leaving just the stalks.

They must have spent the last weeks harvesting.

After another half hour’s walk, thin columns of curling smoke appeared on the horizon. The trail widened into something resembling a dirt road, complete with shallow divots that lined up fairly well with wagon wheels. We climbed a steep hill, and the first hint of thatched roofs appeared in the distance. Looking down, I saw that a few city block’s worth of woods had been cleared. Within were several wooden buildings arranged in a circle.

When we were close enough to hear the chickens roaming around the dirt paths between the structures, the scent of hay and woodsmoke lay heavily in the air. Voices drifted up, growing louder as we moved between the buildings. The nearest we passed featured a huge stone chimney beneath an overhang and smelled of metal filings. It wasn’t until I saw the anvil sitting on a stump that I realized this was the village blacksmith.

Passing the forge, we emerged into a great clearing full of people that stretched on for the length of several football fields. Tables stood all around. Food and drink were enjoyed at some, while games of dice or cards were played at others. A giant pig carcass impaled on a spit was being roasted over an open fire. A few wagons were parked along the edge, wares on display beside them, making a medieval version of a flea market. Children yelled and laughed as they ran between the tables and groups of people mingled. The mood was festive.

The family split up. Uncertain what to do, I did what had become second nature of late and trailed after Rebekah.

The first part of the morning was spent looking at the wares others had brought out for trade. Rebekah spent a great deal of time at a wagon full of fabrics. The bolts were mostly of wool and linen. They were dyed several different colors, and few were embroidered with flowers. Before ending up here, I’d have had more complex colors, designs, and fabrics in an array of clothes available at my fingertips from the internet or a big box store, but for the time and the place, it was an impressive collection.

The next wagon we spent the most time at was one that hosted an array of items. Trinkets, mostly. Necklaces made of leather straps and polished stones, braided leather bracelets of beads, containers of those beads, polished stones, crystals, figures carved out of wood, thick pieces of bark with symbols etched inside, and small clay pots of oils and wax. The woman who oversaw it was the only person with dark skin I’d seen in the village—everyone else was pale or very lightly tanned. Something about her tickled my memory, but I couldn’t quite place her face from the show.

Glancing through the necklaces, I paused as I spied a translucent violet gemstone that had been chipped into the shape of a large teardrop. It wasn’t a single clear color like the others, it seemed to shift shades as it moved. I had no idea what the name of the stone was, but it was lovely. Unfortunately, the only thing I had to call my own was my phone, and I wasn’t about to trade it for a necklace, no matter how pretty.

We walked by the blacksmith’s, but there was a crowd of men looking at the array of tools laid out on several tables. Neither of us were about to risk being squished just to check out the few bits of metal jewelry.

Sometime after we started glancing through the fruits available at the fifth wagon we’d visited, people began to converge on the opposite side of the clearing. Rebekah abandoned her browsing to follow the throng. As we met up with the crowd, Rebekah and I maneuvered between the people to find a spot near the front until we found what had drawn so much attention.

Five straw bundles were set up on stick frames, bows and arrows laid down several yards back. Different colored wool squares of three varying sizes ranging from as small as a peach pit to as large as a handkerchief were pinned to the straw, which I took to be the targets they had to shoot. The smallest piece of red fabric took the middle position. Men lined up as a crowd continued to grow. I saw hands exchange coins as the first archers stepped to the makeshift line and took up the bows and knocked their arrows.

Only two of the first group hit any of the fabric. A few cheers went up. The archers knocked their arrows and drew back again, lining up their shots before releasing. More targets were struck this time, and more cheers followed. The shots were repeated a final time before the first group of archers stepped back to be replaced by the next set of five men. Down by the targets, the arrows were recovered by young boys and ran back to the line.

As different men would approach the line, Rebekah would occasionally nudge me with an elbow and nod towards one of the more handsome villagers. She would say a name with a coquettish smile, one that grew especially large for two in particular—Corey and Gunnar. Corey was a red head that couldn’t have been out of his late teens, with sparkling green eyes and a dimpled smile. Gunnar looked a few years older, with darker hair that—unlike most men in the village—was cut quite short. He also had arms the size of my thighs. Both men hit the fabric on every shot, though only Corey managed to pierce the middle on his second try.

It was another couple of groups before Finn, Elijah, Niklaus, and Kol lined up. I clapped along with Rebekah—and quite a few of the village girls. Finn hit the middle target two out of three times to the rowdy approval of the crowd, but none of the brothers missed the fabric targets.

We stayed a little longer, until Rebekah saw Corey standing off by himself. Hooking her arm in mine, I had to go along as she approached the handsome red head.

Rebekah kept her lashes lowered as she spoke politely to Corey. He responded in kind. Their conversation was somewhat stilted, but neither looked eager to get away, and the longer the talk went on, the easier their words to one another flowed. I stayed quiet, only catching a word or two every so often that I recognized, if not understood.

The two were facing each other, talk light and happy, when I heard a familiar voice call Rebekah’s name. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Elijah marching across the green, brows pinched and a serious cast to the line of his lips. He spoke as he approached, words perfunctory and definitely not best pleased as he shifted his attention between Rebekah and Corey.

Corey held up a hand and sounded as if he were arguing against whatever Elijah had said to him.

Rebekah, eyes bright with indignation, jumped in, indicating me and saying my name as she also pushed back against Elijah’s words.

Elijah’s dark sights briefly touched mine before he gave strict words back to Rebekah. Mouth pursed and brows drawn, Rebekah folded her arms and looked away.

Corey spoke once more, earning a low word from Elijah. Corey nodded before backing away and moving off.

This visibly upset Rebekah, who had a sharp retort for Elijah. Elijah merely arched a brow and replied in a droll tone before taking Rebekah’s arm in hand and guiding her back towards the more populated area of the clearing. I had little choice but to follow after.

We rejoined most of the men at one of the tables where a spirited game of dice was going on. With her mouth pursed and eyes wandering, Rebekah looked distinctly displeased as she stood beside her brothers and watched Kol play another villager. The dice they played with were hand carved out of bone with the familiar dots carved on each side. I had no idea what game they were playing as they took turns, all I had was the jeers and cheers of the crowd to know whether a throw was good or not.

Rebekah and I stayed and watched for several games after Kol’s (which he must’ve lost, as he pushed coin over to the other man). Finally, Rebekah turned to her brothers and made an entreating comment, pointing over to another section of the clearing where several other women were gathering, keeping her eyes wide open as she peered between them.

Whatever she said had the brothers exchanging gazes before the whole group was moving off away from the dice games and towards the place Rebekah had indicated.

This group was made up of more women than men, though there were the latter around. More curious was the fact that a few of the girls’ bodices were wet. They stood in a circle around something fairly large while laughing and shouting gleefully at something in the center.

Joining the group, I found the commotion centered around a wide barrel filled to the brim with water while dozens of apples floated at the top. A dark-haired girl in a green dress stretched her arms behind her back and, holding her hands, bent over the barrel. Her face ducked into the water as she tried to bite into one of the floating apples.

They were bobbing for apples. Finally, a game I was familiar with.

Beside me, Rebekah cheered the girl on along with the rest of the villagers. After a while, she came back up with an empty mouth. Taking another breath, she dove back in. I didn’t see why she shouldn’t have come up with something. There were plenty of apples, but she seemed to be searching for a particular one. Again, she came up empty, and the women spoke consoling words before she dipped down a final time and came back up much quicker with the closest apple.

Taking it from her mouth, she turned it round before announcing something to the crowd. The crowd clapped politely, but from her downturned brows and mouth it must’ve been a disappointing showing.

Rebekah stepped forward then, already brushing her long blonde hair back and tying it with one of her braids before clasping her hands behind her back. Kol said something to her that had the crowd laughing, and Rebekah shooting a cold look over her shoulder at him—to his unrepentant grin—before she took a breath and ducked her head.

Like the first girl she was searching for a particular apple. I wondered if the more well formed the apple the more points? Whatever she was searching for, she came up the first time empty. Several of her brother’s chimed in with what sounded like encouraging words. Rebekah steeled her shoulders before ducking in a second time. The seconds ticked by as she searched the water.

Suddenly, she came back up with an apple.

The crowd cheered as she smiled around the fruit. Taking it from her mouth, Rebekah smugly announced another word I didn’t recognize. Several of the crowd laughed and others applauded again.

Pleased, Rebekah strode back to us. Kol had a comment that had her chin lifting before Rebekah delivered a short, prim reply that had the others shaking their heads or smirking.

Rebekah’s sights then fell on me. “Gangið,” she said. ‘You go.’

The others joined in, and although most of their words were lost, the sentiment was clear enough. I held out my hands. “Já, já.”

Curious eyes watched as I walked up to the barrel. There were at least two dozen apples still floating in the clear water. Runes had been cut into the skins, which must have been the words the others had announced. Holding my hands behind my back, I took a few deep breaths and on the last exhale bent my face down into the water.

The water was cool against my face. After a moment to adjust, I opened my eyes and started turning my head, searching for an apple small enough to get a good hold with my teeth.

I didn’t bother looking for any particular runes since I had no idea what they meant, so I found a good apple on the first go. A hearty cheer went up around me, and my lips pulled into a grin before I let go of my hands and took the apple from my mouth. Turning the apple, I puzzled at the writing.

Rebekah came up and peered over my shoulder. An amused hum escaped before she said, “Niklaus!”

Another cheer was raised, though the spirit of this one was delighted. Confused, I sought some explanation from Rebekah’s face, but all I saw was a smirk. The others had similar grins and comments for Niklaus. For his part, Niklaus took it all with good humor as he wore a wry smile. Our gazes caught, and he bowed slightly to me.

Okay.

I wondered if I could eat the apple or if that would just entertain them all more. After a moment, I shrugged and bit into it. It was a little sour for my taste, but I wasn’t about to waste free food I didn’t have to make with my own hands. And fruit, at that.

The rest of the afternoon was spent moving from game to game. Most were contests of strength or skill for the men. Rebekah and I watched and cheered on for her brothers. Whether it was hurling giant rocks or arm wrestling, they all did well at the games. And from the cheering and good-natured congratulations afterward, it was clear they were well thought of by their neighbors—especially the women.

It was during an entertaining bout of wrestling between Elijah and another villager that I caught sight of one woman in particular.

She looked _exactly_ like Nina Dobrev. Dark eyes, olive skin, long brown hair done in dreads and braids—it had to be Tatia. Standing a few feet from us, she shouted encouragements to Elijah with a light smile and a sparkle in her eyes. Elijah seemed to start grappling all the harder with the man he was up against. I glanced over to see Niklaus’ brows furrowed now, his sights fixed on Tatia.

Niklaus moved apart from us to sidle over to Tatia. He began speaking to her. Tatia wore a flirtatious smirk as she responded. It was halfway through their conversation when I realized someone had moved beside me.

I looked over and felt my brows climb at the sight of the owner of the cart with the carved stones and beads. She met my stare and, after a moment, tilted her head to the side before taking a few steps away from the crowd. She looked over her shoulder, as if checking to see that I followed.

After a glance at the others, with a mental shrug, I did.

She led me far enough from the crowd that I could hear myself think again, but the Mikaelsons were within eyesight. She stared at me for several quiet moments before holding her hand out, palm up. I stared, brows furrowing, uncertain what she wanted. After a moment, she reached down for my hand and lifted it up between us.

She began examining my palm. After a minute, she looked up and said something, one brow arched. I couldn’t understand so I said as much in Norse. She shrugged before pointing to one of the fine lines of my palm, tracing it from between my thumb to my wrist. She said something else, but I still had no idea what. After another minute of staring at my hand, she let go.

She then reached within a pouch hanging from her belt and withdrew a necklace. To my amazement, it was the same violet one I’d noticed before when browsing her wares. I watched as the rock shifted colors as its leather band twirled between her pinched fingers. After a moment, she lowered the necklace into my palm.

I startled. “Nei,” I refused, trying to return the necklace. “I don’t have any money,” I explained lamely in English, since I didn’t have the vocabulary to do so in Norse.

She grabbed my hand and clenched my fingers around the necklace. “Já,” she insisted. She said something, of which the only sentiment I understood was, ‘yours.’

Before I could think of some polite way to decline, she turned and strode away. Behind me, the crowd cheered as Elijah finally pinned his opponent.

* * *

As night fell, a pit in the center of the village was filled with slender tree trunks was lit on fire. The resulting flames were massive, lighting up the village center as well as if there’d been streetlights set along the dirt paths. The pig that had spent the whole afternoon turning and roasting was brought down and served, alongside fresh breads, vegetables, some fruits such as apples and plums, roasted pine nuts and acorns, and the strongest ale I’d yet tasted.

Once the bulk of the dinner had been eaten, instruments appeared. I recognized lutes, fiddles, recorders, and drums. A tune was struck up, and soon, people at the tables were singing and clapping along with a jaunty melody. There was laughter and cheers when the first song finished, before the impromptu band launched into their next.

Some folk got up and, gathering around the fire, began dancing. It wasn’t anything elaborate, there were no coordinated steps or gestures. It was mostly a hopping, spinning, exuberant type of impromptu jig. But the smiling villagers clapped and sang as the dancers frolicked around the fire.

After a while, all the men and Rebekah eventually joined it. I stayed back, eying the necklace I’d been given. I thought I remembered another witch from this time period on the show, but it had been a while since I’d seen the episodes and wasn’t sure if the woman was one. And even though the villagers were probably pagan, I was leery of accusing anyone of witchcraft.

Concentrating so hard on remembering, I almost missed the fact someone had strode up to me until a long shadow fell over the necklace and me. I looked up.

Niklaus stood in front of me, firelight dancing against his back. Once he saw he had my attention, he held out his hand. “Súrepli,” Niklaus said, a glint in his eye and a little smirk on his lips as he called me the Norse word for apple.

I really wished I knew what that apple I’d bobbed for earlier signified.

I looked to the dancers and saw Tatia was busy spinning with Elijah. I wondered if that was why Niklaus had come over.

Either way, I looked up at his expectant face as his eyes searched mine. After a moment, I shrugged and slipped the necklace onto a pouch at my belt before taking his hand. Niklaus grinned as he pulled me up and, holding my hand, guided me to the line of dancers.

It wasn’t exactly club dancing, but I found that if I just kept skipping sideways and added a spin here or there, I more or less fit in with the rest. Niklaus kept pace with me, grinning down at me all the while. There was always a respectable distance maintained between us, and he was careful not to touch me, but I suddenly realized I was dancing with the fearsome Klaus. My heart sped up more than it should have.

He danced the next two songs with me before another man took his place. While spinning, I saw Niklaus had moved back to Tatia and Elijah was nowhere to be found.

I spent the rest of the hour dancing with the different men from the village, occasionally crossing paths with one of the other brothers or Rebekah.

Niklaus never left Tatia’s side.


	4. Autumn's End

“I’ve got you!” The child’s shout scared the few birds left into temporary silence.

A more amused, and not nearly as loud, man replied, “Afraid not,” before two sticks whacked together.

“Come now, Henrik,” laughed a second man. “Keep your shoulders up!”

The ensuing series of clacks and dismayed shouts of little Henrik chased whatever wildlife remained away. It was a good thing Mikael and Finn would have ranged farther up the river to hunt. They’d never find anything with this racket, and whenever they came back empty handed, Mikael was sure to be in a mood.

Arms aching, fingers pruned, and hands freezing, I took a break from scouring one of Kol’s tunics against the wooden washboard to sit back on my heels and glance over my shoulder. The trees came very close to the stream’s bank in this part of the woods, ensuring there was always plenty of shade. Not that it was needed much anymore with the weather growing brisker. The leaves left on their branches were a stunning palette of fiery oranges, yellows, and reds, but more littered the ground. You couldn’t take a step without a handful crunching underfoot.

On a patch of shoreline where the ground wasn’t too uneven from rocks or roots, Elijah and Henrik darted back and forth, wooden swords bashing away at one another. Well, Henrik’s was, at least. The boy swung his practice sword wildly to and fro, hoping to land a lucky hit. Elijah’s wooden blade always seemed to appear just where it needed to be. Unlike Henrik, who was giving his all in each swing, Elijah was barely moving his arm at all.

Klaus was seated on a nearby log, a long blade of wild grass between his lips, watching the two spar with the occasional bit of advice for Henrik. It didn’t sound as if Henrik was taking it. All I’d heard for the past hour was frustrated shouts and promises of swift retribution. Considering the slight smile on his face, Elijah didn’t look at all worried.

After a few more minutes of fruitless attacks, Henrik gave a cry and threw his sword down.

“Well, now you’re for the buzzards, brother,” Klaus called, amused.

Henrik whirled around and stuck his tongue out.

“Never give up your sword,” Elijah intoned as he picked up Henrik’s fallen sword and held it out to him.

Henrik glared at it before huffing and yanking it out of Elijah’s hold.

Wondering what it would be like to wield a sword against someone who knew how to use it, I asked, “Can I try?”

A startled silence greeted me. Even Rebekah had stopped scrubbing to stare. Henrik’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head. “Girls can’t use swords,” he insisted, sounding insulted.

“Why not?” I asked, standing from the rock I’d been sitting on and wiping my backside.

Henrik’s brows pulled together as he sought the answer from his brothers—both of whom were watching my approach curiously. “Because you’re a _girl_!” he settled.

But Elijah wasn’t protesting. His brow was arched, and his eyes were gleaming.

When I reached them, I held out my hand to Henrik for his sword. Skepticism pulled Henrik’s brows low, but he held out the practice sword at Elijah’s nod.

I took it, surprised momentarily at its weight. Fortunately, my newfound list of chores had been better than strength training at the gym. I wrapped my hands around the hilt and lifted the sword out in front of me.

Apart from his brows ticking higher, Elijah made no move. If this went anything like it had with Henrik, I’d have to be on the offensive while Elijah defended. Winding back as if I were prepared to whack a softball, I stepped towards him and swung.

Elijah stepped lightly about and blocked my blade with his to a great crack that echoed among the trees. One of his brows twitched.

I pulled back and stepped sideways. Elijah turned with me, still not going on the attack.

I tried a lunging move I’d seen in movies, just jabbing the blade straight at his chest. Elijah sidled away faster, whacking the blade down towards the ground so hard, I nearly lost my hold on it as the hilt shuddered.

“Bloodthirsty little thing,” Klaus remarked, a smirk in his voice.

Elijah’s gaze danced over my shoulder towards the log Klaus sat on, the corners of his mouth tilting up.

I struck as fast as I could in a swipe that started from my left shoulder and moved downwards at a diagonal. The wood clashed together, my blade sliding off along his, directed safely away.

Finally, I tried lifting the sword overhead and whipping it down.

Elijah’s own sword came up, the blade blocking mine. Arms raised, the move brought him right up into my space, so close our chests were almost touching. I could smell the strong musk of sweat, feel the soft brush of his breath. He stared into my eyes before his gaze darted towards my lips, then flicked back up.

I shivered, and not from the cold. The wool of my dress seemed rougher than usual as it grazed along my skin.

Flustered from the sudden flush of want, I tried shoving back. But I may as well have tried to push over a tree. Elijah didn’t even exert himself in resisting. His eyebrow simply did a little tick upwards again before his sights dropped a second time.

I stepped back, letting my arms drop. Elijah’s likewise returned to a resting position. But the closeness had awoken an awareness of him. The sense of his greater size and strength, the firmness of his body. The way his eyes darkened even further as he watched for my next move.

I didn’t want to give up. I threw myself headlong at him, hoping to blitz him. I slashed side to side as fast as my arms could move. Elijah blocked each swing but retreated several steps as he did. I pressed forward, blades clacking together every second. There was no finesse or skill behind my attack, just a frenzied drive to push him back. It worked for a few seconds, until Elijah grew tired of it.

He stopped retreating and stepped forward, not just blocking but swinging against my slash. The sword was knocked out of my grip, spinning to the ground. Not knowing what else to do, I reached for it—and found the blunt edge of Elijah’s practice sword against my throat.

He clicked his tongue, pinning me with his dark eyes. A corner of his mouth lifted. “Now you’re at my mercy.”

A moment passed, Elijah’s stare narrowing as he studied my face. It wasn’t until Klaus began a slow clap behind us that he blinked. His blade slid back along my shoulder, catching a lock of hair and lifting it minutely before he let the sword fall away.

Klaus gave a slight chuckle as he approached, but my gaze remained locked with Elijah’s. “And that,” Klaus said, supremely amused, “is why women should not pick up a blade.” He drew even with me. I managed to look away from Elijah long enough to see Klaus grinning at me.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Elijah returned, eyes still burning into mine when I turned back. “I think she shows promise.”

“Spirit, certainly,” Klaus allowed, but it was clear from the sparkle in his eyes he wasn’t taking Elijah’s comment seriously.

Still staring, Elijah hummed. I fought the urge to shift my feet or wring my hands. Lifting my chin, I met his stare. The corners of his mouth lifted.

“Now that you’re done playing with sticks, perhaps you’ll help me finish the clothes,” an exasperated Rebekah called.

“Duty calls,” I muttered to the amusement of both men. I picked up the sword and held it back out to Henrik and traipsed back down the bank to the water. The rest of the afternoon, I felt a pair of dark eyes watching me.

* * *

Since the harvest the men lingered around the house. If they weren’t doing their own chores or repairs, they were relaxing, heading off to the village, or hunting in the woods. Our chores, women’s chores, went on much as before. No break in the daily toil of housework, not before the time of appliances and canned food.

Since the day by the river that I’d braved a little break to my new monotony, I’d sometimes catch Elijah watching me. Not as suspiciously as Mikael whenever his sights found me. Instead, Elijah’s was a thoughtful regard. My heart would pick up speed whenever our eyes met, and a little thrill would shoot through me. Saying Elijah was handsome was like calling water a bit wet. More than the superhero jawline and intelligent eyes, though, was his calming presence. Elijah exuded a quiet confidence that set him apart from his brothers.

A week after I’d crossed wooden swords with him, I was weeding the last of the late garden crops when I caught sight of Elijah strolling down the hillside. I assumed he was off to the hog pen, or perhaps into the woods, and dropped my sights back to my task. It was a brisk day out, and I didn’t want to linger outside as the wind had a cold sting to it. The temperature was starting to get lower as time went on, the days a little shorter. Winter was almost here.

That plan changed as Elijah’s grass-crunching footsteps came right up to the chest-high stick fence. I sensed his eyes on me again, which drew another pleasant thrill before I looked up to confirm his presence. Both arms crossed atop the railing, Elijah studied me with eyes squinting against the late afternoon sunshine.

Leaving the trowel in the dirt, I paused to look up, shading my own eyes with my hand. “Yes?”

Leaning against his forearms, Elijah studied what was left of the garden. A row of onions and some herbs. The rest of what had grown was dried and twisted remnants of yellow stalks and shriveled leaves. “Are you staying through the winter?”

The question startled me. So far, not even Mikael had asked after any plans. “If your family allows it.”

Elijah’s studious eyes turned back to me. “You learn quickly.”

“I haven’t had a choice.”

Elijah hummed. “Where are you from, Ashley?”

I had thought to try and explain my situation to Esther many times, but still lacked the vocabulary to fully express what had happened. Not to mention, I wasn’t sure she’d believe me. I grimaced. “Far away. Far, far away.”

“And yet, here you are. Alone in a land so unknown, we had to listen to the whisper of spirits to find it.” Elijah tilted his head. “How is that?”

After a moment, I decided honesty was my best bet. “A storm brought me,” I explained slowly.

“A storm?”

“I was—” I didn’t know the word for jogging so I said, “walking through the woods. A storm came. A bad one. I tried to hide behind a tree, but the last thing I heard was a big branch breaking.” I nodded in the direction of the brook. “I woke up on the bank of the stream.”

Elijah studied me quietly for a moment. A chill wind came up, rustling the dead leaves and grass. After it passed, Elijah’s gaze shifted to the distant, naked trees. “Sounds like an act of the gods.”

I was skeptical but wasn’t about to express doubt in their religion. History of the period was rife with examples of the kinds of violent things people did to others who disagreed when it came to their faith. “I couldn’t say.”

His lips twisted up into a small smile. As if he knew my thoughts and found my diplomatic reply amusing. “Where are you from?”

“Place called Iowa.”

He repeated it, drawing out the vowels. He looked to me, checking if he’d said it right. At my nod, he seemed pleased. After a moment, he said, “You’re lucky your journey was so brief. It took weeks to cross the great sea to reach the shores of this land. Some didn’t make it.”

“You remember the crossing?” I wondered.

He nodded. “I was younger than Henrik, but yes.” His eyes narrowed. “I do not care for sea travel.” His brow arched. “Do not tell my father I said such.”

“I won’t,” I swore. I’d seen Mikael’s occasional burst of temper. So far it had been reserved for when he and Finn came back empty handed from the hunt. He’d swear and yell, sometimes break something. I hadn’t seen him turn his frustration on anyone. But from the way everyone tried to make themselves look smaller when Mikael was in a rage—and from what I remembered on the show—I didn’t doubt he had in the past.

Elijah smiled at me. My heart beat a little faster. I reminded myself of his interest in Tatia—one she apparently returned. Or would.

I cleared my throat and asked, “So, I’ll be allowed to stay the winter?”

“I believe so.” He gazed off towards the house. “We have the grain for it. And father has never said otherwise.”

The prospect of enduring winter without a heater was daunting. The idea of it without a place to stay was even worse. Though, I supposed I could always try to find another house in the village to take me. But, as strange as it was, I felt I knew the Mikaelsons.

I was still leery of revealing what I knew of their futures. I wasn’t even sure what I knew would come to pass. The longer I stayed, the less real the show seemed.

I summoned a smile. “I’m grateful.”

Elijah returned my smile. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

It was as if summer had returned. A warmth started from my chest and spread to my fingers, chasing away the cold. “Thank you.”

Elijah’s smile grew. “Of course.” He tilted his head. “Tell me about your homeland.”

A smirk twisted the corner of my lips. “Thinking of going raiding?”

A chuckle bubbled out of his chest. “I told you. I don’t like ships.”

“Right.” I leaned back, planting my butt in the dirt and gazing up at him. “It’s—busy. People always have somewhere to go. Something to do. I used to love getting out into the country. Fewer people.”

“You were from a village, then?”

“A city. A small one,” I corrected. I gave a self-deprecating smile. “I miss the convenience of it. My family. Friends.”

Elijah seemed to soak all this up. “But no husband?”

I let out a surprised laugh. “God, no.” At his arched brow, I said, “People wait longer to marry where I’m from.”

“Really?” He seemed intrigued. Probably because of how often his mother brought the topic up with him and Finn.

“At twenty, I’m probably an old maid here, huh?” Rebekah was certainly eager to marry, and she was sixteen.

“Hardly that,” Elijah replied, that small smile I was really starting to like making another appearance. “You were high born?”

That surprised me. “No. Not really. Why would you think that?”

Elijah shrugged. “You did not appear to know how to do very simple chores when you first arrived.” I grimaced at his observation. “We assumed you were from nobility.”

I laughed lightly. “No. We don’t have nobles in Iowa.” His brows shot up his forehead. “We elect our leaders. Life was just—different.”

“Apparently so,” he mused. He studied me for several more seconds before straightening away from the fence. “I’m keeping you from your work.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” My smile turned a bit shyer. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Elijah grinned. “I shall make a point to do it more often, then.”

“I’d like that,” I admitted.

Elijah’s grin widened. “See you at supper,” he said before leaving.

I waved as he walked back to the house. When he was up the hill, I turned back to the particularly stubborn weed I was struggling with before Elijah had approached the fence. Stabbing the trowel back into the dirt to try and cut the roots, I thought about our brief talk.

I hadn’t lied. It was nice talking to someone.

Despite living with eight people, they were so used to my silence, no one had tried to speak to me too much. It made for lonely days and nights, despite always being in someone’s company. Along with the harder way of life, the fact I hadn’t spoken to my parents or friends for months, it was something that kept me up at night.

It would be nice to relieve at least one of my late-night burdens.

* * *

Winter fell like a hammer.

One day I woke up to my breath misting in front of me, shivering uncontrollably, as the rooster crowed. My face ached with cold, and my nose felt like ice. I scrunched under the wool blanket, squeezed my eyes shut, and wished I were back in my heated apartment.

But of course, that didn’t happen.

As I was usually the first to leave the loft, I slid my sneakers on and dropped down. The cold was even worse down near the dirt floor. Teeth clattering, I wrapped my arms around myself in a hug and forced myself to take up the baskets and cross to the door.

I found a light layer of frost glittering on the ground.

I was glad for my modern footwear as I stepped outside. I was sure the leather shoes the others wore wouldn’t do as well to keep the cold out. I was still missing a coat. I strode as quickly as I could to the coop and gathered the eggs. I had to replace some of the bedding, too, which kept me out longer than I’d have liked. By the time I tossed the feed onto the ground I was trembling, and it was a wonder I didn’t crack the eggs.

The chickens weren’t all that enthusiastic about pecking through the frost for their breakfast. I didn’t blame them.

By the time I made it back to the house, I was halfway frozen. Just my luck Mikael and Finn were readying to leave, layering on furs, as I stepped inside, freezing.

From the fireplace, Esther looked over and her brows climbed. “Come to the fire.”

“The girl has no sense,” Mikael grumbled as I had to pass by him, his sharp eyes following me as I hurried to Esther’s side.

“Take a cloak before you venture out,” Esther said sternly as she took the basket from me and sat me in front of the fire.

“Yeah, good idea,” I muttered through my chattering teeth, extending my hands towards the crackling flames. I sighed as some of the warmth seeped into my fingers.

Mikael snorted. “It will be a miracle if you survive the winter.”

I found myself agreeing with him.

As Mikael and Finn finished prepping, Esther began warming water in a pot. Plucking more herbs from the rafters, she poured the warmed water into a cup with the herbs and handed it to me. “To keep you from ailing,” she explained.

I smelled mint and chamomile and smiled in thanks before sipping.

That smile fell off my face as I realized it was going to be a long, miserable winter.


	5. Punishment

It wasn’t the coldest winter I’d ever experienced. Virginia didn’t get to the low temperatures Iowa could. But in Iowa, the worst I’d experience would be a few minutes in my car, waiting for it to warm up. Here, there was no respite from the cold. It seeped into everything—the floor, furniture, clothes, dishes. Nipping relentlessly against the face, fingers, and feet until warmth became a distant, half-forgotten memory.

We staved it off by piling on layers of wool and fur. Letting the fire burn high late into the night. Sleeping closer than in the summer. Sleeping at the end in the warmer months had been a relief—now, it was no favor. I pulled as much of the end of the blankets and furs over me as I could, tucking my feet up until I laid half-curled.

I’d developed a constant sniffle. A month in, and I was more eager than ever to get home.

One day, when the men were all off either hunting or visiting the village, I spoke to Esther as I kneaded the evening’s bread. I told her what I’d told Elijah about the storm.

Esther took in in stride. “An act of the gods.”

“That’s what Elijah thinks,” I answered.

“You do not?” She sprinkled more herbs into the pot of squirrel soup. More of a broth, really. There wasn’t much in the way of vegetables left aside from some potatoes and onions.

I shrugged before beating down on the dough. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I glanced at her. “Why me?”

“One cannot know the mind of a god.” Esther paused to look at me. “Some great power brought you, that is clear. The magic required to conjure a storm and move through the physical realm is very great. Much more than any one person is capable of.”

My heart sank. “So, it can’t be done again?” At Esther’s raised brow, I clarified, “To send me home.”

Esther shook her head. “No. Not by any witch or spell I know.” She sent me a pitying look. “I am sorry, Ashley.”

Eyes burning, I paused in my work. I took a deep breath, trying to control the sudden pit of despair that opened inside me. I was never getting out of here. I would never see my parents, my brother, my friends. This was my life now. Endless days and nights of the same mindless work. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to hold back the sudden wave of tears that welled up within.

“Perhaps you were brought for a reason.”

I opened my eyes, looking over at Esther through a watery gaze. “A reason?”

“In the tales, those chosen by the gods for a great task return to their lives when that task is complete. Often rewarded for their service.” Esther smiled softly. “Perhaps the gods will return you to your land if you do whatever it is they wish of you.”

Yeah, except I wasn’t sure if I bought that explanation of why I was here. Although, I mused as I began folding the dough, I couldn’t come up with a better one.

But if that were true, what did they want done? It must do with the family. The first and most obvious reason being to keep them from becoming vampires. If I did that, would whatever brought me send me home?

But was it right to change the future like that? If this world was real, and the future was what I’d seen on the show, what gave me the right to change it? Who knew what a thousand years without the Originals and vampires would do to this world. They had to touch so many lives and events in history it would be impossible to predict what removing their influence would do.

Brow furrowed as I began kneading again, I wondered. It might seem simple to say the world would be better off without vampires. But great change could come from tragedy. If not for the Black Death, would everyone still be serfs in my world? Without the Cold War would we have gone to the moon?

There were so many implications to changing the future I couldn’t begin to say what it would lead to. Something better? Something worse?

Before I could decide, the door to the house banged open. “Mother!” Esther and I whirled around to see Rebekah, pale and wide eyed, in the doorframe. “Come quickly!”

Esther placed the stirring spoon up onto the shelf and hurried to Rebekah. “What has happened?”

“It is father,” Rebekah answered as I wiped my hands off on my skirts and followed Esther. “He is whipping Nik.”

I jolted. Esther’s eyes rounded as she picked her skirts up and rushed out the door.

The cries were faint from just outside the house. Rebekah guided us around to the northern tree line. Thankfully, there was no snow on the ground to slow our steps as we raced down the hill and then between the trunks, hopping over fallen branches. The further into the woods, the louder the shouts became. I nearly fell when I stepped on a rock that tilted under my weight but managed to keep myself upright.

Then came the slap of leather and a guttural cry.

“Mikael!” Esther called as we came close enough to see them through the trees.

I didn’t need the freezing air to chill my blood. The sight of Klaus, tunic off and back a mess of huge red welts had me gasping. His arms were hugging the tree as he kneeled on the ground, head down.

Finn and Elijah stood nearby. Finn with a grim expression while Elijah stared at the ground.

Mikael stood over Klaus, his belt folded over in his grip. At Esther’s call, he stopped and turned, glaring at her as she hurried to Klaus’ side. “What have you done?!” she demanded as her hands hovered and trembled over the great lashes in Klaus’ back. I stopped next to Rebekah, who grabbed my arm and squeezed.

“The boy is a fool,” Mikael snapped. He strode first one way and then the other, his fist tightening on the belt as if he wished to whip Klaus again. “He cannot fight. He cannot hunt. He is useless!”

Esther twisted to glare up at Mikael. Mikael glared back. Eventually, Esther’s eyes dropped to the ground.

“Coddle him, then,” Mikael spat before spinning about and stalking off into the woods.

“Finn, Elijah,” Esther commanded. “Help me.”

They obeyed at once, moving to her side as Esther put one of Klaus’ arms over her shoulders and tried to stand. When she couldn’t manage it, Elijah unwound Klaus’ arm and knelt to wrap it around his shoulders instead. Finn carefully took hold of Klaus’ other side. Together, they hauled him up. Klaus’ eyes and lips stayed tightly shut.

“Girls,” Esther said as she guided Finn and Elijah back towards the house. “Have the bench readied. We will need to tend him.”

“Yes, mother,” Rebekah answered, pulling me along with her. She forced me into a run, though we could have walked fast and still arrived before the others.

Once back inside, I realized how cold I’d gotten outside as my face and fingers tingled and burned a bit as the warmth thawed them. Rebekah turned to me. “Grab the bearskin from the bed.”

I climbed up to the loft and yanked over the large bearskin that laid atop all the other blankets and furs. I rolled it up as best I could while moving quickly, which made it bigger and bulkier than it probably could have been. “Should I just drop it over the edge?” I asked.

Rebekah moved just below the loft. “Yes, slowly.”

It took a fair bit of strength, and a few grunts, to move the heavy bearskin over the edge. Half of it folded and flopped down. I managed to push over the rest. Rebekah huffed as she caught it. The thing had to weigh over fifty pounds.

I hung off the edge before dropping, and together, we rolled the fur skin-side up over the bench.

“We will need warm water,” Rebekah said as she moved to the fire.

I dipped a pitcher into one of the water buckets and handed it to her to pour into a small pot.

I was filling another pitcher when the door opened and Esther guided Finn, Elijah, and Niklaus inside the house. Niklaus had his feet under him again, but he was hanging heavily between his brothers. His face was white and scrunched tight in pain. His breathing was shallow and fast.

As soon as he was laid down on the bench on his stomach, Finn and Elijah stepped back. Esther hurried over to the kitchen, grabbing her mortar and pestle and several herbs.

Klaus’ back looked worse now than it had when I’d first laid eyes on it. I could see the outline of the belt in the red welts that crisscrossed his pale skin. They were inflamed and swelling. I tried to count them and got as far as fifteen before I had to stop. The skin had broken in places, and a few thin rivulets of blood dripped around the contour of his muscles.

My parents had never used corporal punishment. Seeing the ruin that was Klaus’ back, I couldn’t understand why Mikael would do this to him.

Esther added the herbs to the water Rebekah had heated and mixed it together before bringing them to the table. I picked up a strong smell of ginger as she passed by me.

Esther dipped the rag into the pot and carefully applied it on Niklaus’ welts. Squeezing his eyes shut, Klaus grunted and gripped the bearskin. Esther shushed him as she continued swabbing the mixture onto his back.

Rebekah grabbed my arm, and as I met her eye, nodded back towards the bread and soup that had to be finished. I turned from Niklaus and Esther and returned to my task, doing my best to ignore the pained hisses that occasionally sounded behind me. After she was done with his welts, Esther came over and made Klaus a tea.

Finn and Elijah returned outside once Esther was done tending to Klaus. Klaus was soon asleep, knocked out by whatever had been in Esther’s drink. As we completed supper, Esther’s movements were short and sharp. Noticing her irritability, I did my best to complete all my tasks quietly.

When it was nearly suppertime, Esther woke Klaus. Pushing himself up, he was tense, expression pinched, and obviously still in a great deal of pain. At least his welts hadn’t swollen too badly, which I supposed was thanks to Esther’s concoction. Klaus was even able to pull his tunic back on, though he hissed and arched as the wool laid against his back.

“Have supper and go to bed,” Esther instructed before walking to the soup. She nodded to me, and I grabbed one of the round loaves of bread and the pitcher of water with a cup.

As I put the bread and cup down, Klaus glared at them. “I am not hungry.”

“Do not whine, Niklaus,” Esther chided as she brought over a bowl of soup.

Klaus sent her a narrowed eyed glare that she returned with an unimpressed look, meeting his stare unflinchingly. After a moment, Klaus blew out an annoyed breath and ripped a chunk out of the bread.

We left him to eat, which put me back on my corner stool next to the pitcher of water.

He didn’t take another cup. Instead, he finished half of what he’d been given before standing from the bench. Esther looked displeased but didn’t say anything as Klaus moved gingerly up the steps to the loft.

By the time everyone had gathered back for supper, no one mentioned Niklaus’ absence from the table. No one spoke directly to Mikael, and he didn’t speak to anyone else as he stewed. I still had to serve him water. I grit my teeth as I poured his glass. My dislike for the man couldn’t be any stronger than it was at that moment. I had no idea why he’d beaten Klaus, but nothing could warrant that sort of savagery.

* * *

I didn’t sleep well that evening, which wasn’t too unusual. Insomnia haunted me most nights, questions of what my friends or family were doing. If they were looking for me. If I’d ever get back—which seemed less likely after my talk with Esther. I tried not to think too much of my life before. All it did was depress me. Still, memories came in the dark, and sometimes silent tears.

It was probably near midnight when someone else began moving about. Sometimes someone would have to get up and use the chamber pot. Always awkward listening to that. This time, however, they dropped down out of the loft, and from the pained noise they made as their arms stretched from the edge, I had a fairly good idea who it was.

I waited ten minutes after the door shut behind them before slipping out myself. I grabbed a wax candle from the table and lit it with the low coals burning in the fire. Then I took what was left of the herbal concoction Esther had made, a deerskin blanket, a spare linen rag, and my cloak before wandering outside.

As I suspected, Niklaus sat a few feet from the door, atop a table that stood by the house where Rebekah and I washed dishes. He had his tunic off and sat half naked despite the temperature. It was already cold enough that my breath steamed in front of me as I walked over to join him.

Niklaus looked over once I was near enough that he wouldn’t have to twist his back to see who’d joined him. He pursed his lips before staring back out at the night. “I apologize for waking you, but I wish to be alone.”

I hesitated a moment before setting the candle and all the rest of the items I carried down. I picked the deerskin back up and unrolled it. “I’ll go back in as soon as I put some more of that—” I didn’t know the word for whatever it was Esther made so settled for, “stuff your mom made on your back.” I handed the deerskin out to him.

He stared at it for several moments before giving in with a sigh that misted the air before him. He covered the fur over his chest and arms, leaving his back bare.

Picking up the bowl, I dipped the linen in until it had soaked up a good portion and, lip between my teeth, lightly dragged it over the welt at the top of his left shoulder. Klaus didn’t make a noise, but from the way the muscle beneath twitched, I could tell it wasn’t pleasant. “Sorry.”

“It is nothing.”

Yeah, right. I eyed the back of his head. But, if he wanted to play tough guy, I wasn’t going to call him on it. “I was already awake.”

“What?” He asked, voice stressed as I dragged the rag over the next welt.

“You apologized for waking me, but I was already up,” I explained.

He didn’t respond. I settled for tending to his welts as he stared off into the woods.

I had gotten used to his silence when he asked, “Why were you not asleep?”

“Oh,” I shrugged, “just a lot on my mind.” He was quiet again. After a minute, I offered, “I think about home. My family. Friends. Things like that.”

Klaus hummed. “You miss them?”

“Yes.” I dipped the rag again and started on his right shoulder. “Very much.”

“Why do you not go back?” he wondered.

“Didn’t Elijah tell you?” He shook his head. My estimation for Elijah went up. He didn’t gossip, apparently. “There was a storm. When it was over, I woke up here. Your mom and brother say it was an act of the gods.” He jerked again as I traced over a particularly nasty welt with a bit of split skin. I winced in sympathy before adding, “I have no idea how to get home.”

“If they said it is so, it must be,” Niklaus replied.

I said, “I guess,” and moved on to the next, less severe, welt. “I just don’t know why some god would pick _me_. Seems odd.”

Niklaus hummed again.

Quiet settled. The only sound was the rattling of the bare branches and the whisper of the stiff grass. I was getting used to the silence when Klaus said, “Your father. Do you think he misses you?”

“Yeah,” I said, surprised. “I’m sure he does.” I frowned as I brushed the rag over the middle of his back. “I used to visit their house all the time.”

“You lived with your husband?”

“No,” I replied. “I lived on my own. I’m not married.”

“Lived on your own?” He was incredulous. “How could an unmarried woman live alone?”

“Well, I’m not saying it was easy. But, you know, get a job, pay your rent, your groceries, your debts. Voila.”

Klaus shook his head. “You are lucky you were not robbed. Or worse.”

“I guess.” I had felt pretty safe where I was, but I wouldn’t argue the point.

After a moment, he said softly, “I wonder if father would be distressed if I were taken by the gods.”

I blinked. That was a whole can of worms. I wondered if I should respond at all. After a moment, I said, “I think your whole family would miss you.”

Niklaus snorted, causing me to press harder than I’d meant to. He hissed out a breath, and I said, “Sorry!”

He shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps.”

“Henrik follows you around like a puppy,” I said. “He’d be devastated. And I know Rebekah adores you. She’s always making sure you get the biggest portion of bread.” I lowered my voice and said, “She thinks you’re too thin.” Seeing his back, however, I had to disagree. Klaus was built like an Olympic swimmer.

He hmm’d.

“You and Elijah seem close,” I went on.

“We were closer, once,” Niklaus murmured. He shifted beneath the deerskin, hiking it further up his shoulders.

He must have meant the estrangement because of Tatia. But they didn’t seem too estranged to me. Maybe it would get worse as time went on and she didn’t choose between them.

When I reached the last welt, I put the bowl and rag back onto the table. “Done.” I stepped to the side as he shifted the fur more fully around himself. “I’ll leave you to your brooding.”

“I am not brooding,” he said, lips pursed petulantly.

I held up a thumb and forefinger, “Little bit.” I smiled. “But that’s fine. Nothing wrong with a good brood every now and then.” And he’d earned a bit of brooding. I’d be a wreck if I’d just taken a beating like that. I picked up the bowl and rag and nodded. “I’ll leave the candle for you.”

Niklaus nodded.

“Just—don’t stay out here too long. You’ll get sick,” I warned.

He sighed. “Yes, mother.”

I crinkled my nose and huffed before making a show of flouncing away. I heard a light chuckle follow me, which made me grin as I stepped back inside the house.


	6. A Boon

The caverns felt colder than ever.

Of course, the temperature underground was not as fickle as above, but snow had come. It was frigid outside. Laden with furs and blankets, sneakers scraping against the stone floor, I trundled after Rebekah and Klaus into the caves to prepare for the latest full moon.

Other villagers were preparing their areas, Klaus and Rebekah exchanged greetings with them as we moved over the uneven rock to our corner of the cavern. At the western end, it was a narrow area no bigger than a van.

Rebekah and I prepared the beds while Klaus started the fire. He used what they called fire-steel, a c-shaped bit of metal he could thread his fingers through and strike with a rock. Sparks burst off the metal and onto the straw Klaus had bundled inside the soot-covered stone circle. Soon, he was nursing a few flames with bits of dried twigs he’d gathered from the pile of firewood back at the house. Within ten minutes, he had a decent little fire merrily lapping away at a few bits of chopped wood. Klaus used the fire to light a torch to carry with him now that his arms weren’t hauling bedding.

I was still unrolling furs and blankets while Rebekah had climbed up a ledge along the wall. The sound of scraping soon followed. I glanced over to see her scratching the blade into the rock face, carving a rune. At first, I turned back to my chore, then I remembered the show and whipped back around to watch. My stomach dropped as my heart sped up.

Torch in hand, Klaus was watching as well, and as soon as Rebekah had carved the third rune of her name, asked, “Rebekah, let me have at it.”

“Quiet, Niklaus.” She was stretched all the way on her toes to reach further over. “I am to have more concentration if I am not to slice off a finger.”

Klaus’ tone turned petulant. “Father will not like you handling the blade.”

My hands were cold, my fingers numb. My stomach knotted. I had _seen_ this before.

Rebekah paused long enough to glance over her shoulder. “If I want to wield a blade, I shall wield a blade.” She turned back to the wall. “Father need not know.”

“He will find out,” Klaus argued. “He always does.”

Rebekah sighed and turned, striding towards Klaus. “That is because you always tell him.”

Klaus lowered his voice, until I almost couldn’t hear him. “I cannot help it.” Klaus glanced up to meet Rebekah’s eyes. “He frightens me.”

My heart lurched. They would spend centuries running from Mikael if the future I’d seen came to be. I swallowed, tempted to look away, but like the need to rubberneck a car wreck my stare was fixed.

Rebekah frowned. “He frightens us all.” As Klaus dropped his gaze, Rebekah sought to meet it. “That is why we stick together as one, always and forever.” She smiled. “Right, traitor?”

Klaus smirked lightly as he looked back up. “Right.”

“Here.” Rebekah held the blade out to him. “You finish it. I am to help mother with the meal.”

Klaus’ smirk curled higher as he walked around her towards the wall. “Yes, go tend to dinner, and leave the blades to the men, little sister.” He held out his hand to her.

Rebekah slammed the knife down into his palm, blade first.

“Agh,” Klaus winced. “Bekah!” he growled.

Rebekah wore a small smile. “It's just a little blood.” She tilted her head and began to turn. “Be a man about it,” she finished before striding off.

Klaus glared after her before wincing as he curled his hand around the knife’s handle.

I pressed my hand to my chest, ready to catch my heart if it tried pounding its way out of my ribcage. Gorge rose in my throat and I turned away. I remembered that moment from the show. It had just played out in front of me like the worst case of déjà vu. Was still playing out, as Klaus took over the job of carving the runes into the cavern’s wall.

The runes Damon, Alaric, and Elena would one day discover.

“Are you well, Ashely?” Klaus was staring down at me, concern pinching his brow tight together. “You are quite pale.”

I swallowed bile and tried to smile. “I’m just… a little dizzy.”

Klaus hopped down from the rock and stepped over to me. He crouched down, blue eyes roaming my face. “Feeling ill?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

Klaus looked doubtful but nodded after a moment and started to rise.

If this was real, and this was happening—I suddenly remembered Henrik running after Kol that morning, kicking his feet in the snow, delighted.

I grabbed Klaus’ sleeve. He stopped, surprised, arching his brows as he stared down at me.

I stared back. “Promise me something?”

Klaus blinked. “What would you have me swear?” he asked, careful.

“Henrik. You’ll never take him out of these caverns when the wolves are out.”

His eyes rounded. Anger darkened his stare as his brows fell into a sharp vee. He tugged his sleeve out of my grip. “It is a vow I need not make. I would never do such a thing.”

I didn’t care that he was mad at me. I let out a breath, letting my hand fall to the furs and steady me as my head swam.

Klaus was standing, looking down at me with a mixture of concern and frustration.

I realized I had just changed the future. I gazed at the furs and blankets arrayed around me, the fire in the small stone circle, the light flickering on the cavern walls. Seeking some shift in the world around me. Of course, there was none. None that I could see.

Had I done the right thing?

My gaze jumped to Klaus, who eyed me with caution before returning to the wall to finish what Rebekah had started.

* * *

Around mid-winter, the family bundled up in cloaks and furs and—picking the biggest hog from the pen and grabbing several chickens—took off into the woods. This time, I was able to ask where we were going and why.

“To the village for Jól,” Rebekah explained.

“Jól?” I wondered. The word sounded vaguely familiar. One of the names for Odin, their chief god, was Jólnir. I thought it might be connected.

“A mid-winter festival,” Elijah said, slowing until he walked along my other side. “All the farmers sacrifice their best animals to Odin, Njörðr, and Freyr—to ask for peace and good harvests.” He tilted his head. “It was my understanding even the kingdoms over the sea celebrated some form of mid-winter.”

“Your people may call it Yule,” Mikael said, peering over his shoulder.

My eyes widened. “Oh. Well, we call it Christmas. And a few other holidays. Hanukkah. Kwanzaa.”

“So many festivals?” Rebekah wondered.

“You must get very drunk,” Kol smirked.

“I didn’t realize it was already near the end of December,” I muttered. I looked down to the hog Henrik was leading. It lumbered along willingly with no idea of its fate. My chest tightened at the thought of the trust the animal had that was about to be betrayed. “You’re going to—kill the hog?”

“It’s what it was raised for,” Mikael said sharply, ending the discussion.

I supposed so. I wasn’t sure what I expected—that the hogs and the chickens were medieval versions of pets? Still, it didn’t sit well with me. Which was absurd. I’d eaten ham and pork chops and bacon before. But I’d never had to _feed_ my bacon and pet its head.

It dampened my anticipation for the festival.

The village was much the same as it had been in autumn, except considerably colder. Mikael led Henrik and Esther, who carried the chickens, towards a pen at the edge of the clearing. There were other animals already gathered within—goats, sheep, and more pigs.

I turned away and looked to Rebekah. “Can we go anywhere _not_ near the pens?”

Her brow arched. “You do not wish to see the prize animals?”

“Not really,” I grimaced.

She shrugged. “Very well.” She nodded towards the carts. “Shall we browse the goods on offer?”

“Sure.”

“Stay within sight,” Elijah commanded as he looked between us.

“Follow then, brother, if you’re so concerned,” Rebekah returned, glancing at me before rolling her eyes.

Elijah folded his arms and frowned. Ignoring his stare, Rebekah took my arm and led me off for the nearest wagon. “Elijah is such a killjoy,” she murmured as we crossed the field.

“He’s just worried about you,” I replied tactfully.

“Five brothers. It is suffocating.” She smiled and hugged my arm. “Thank goodness you are here, Ashley. It is good to have another girl around.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Rebekah.”

The first wagon we reached had an array of clay vases, pitchers, bowls, and even a few figurines. Rebekah’s eyes wandered over each of them. “You should marry one of my brothers. Then we would be sisters.”

I started, forcing her to stop as I stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Rebekah studied my expression and frowned. “I am not.” She turned back to the wares, brows pinched together. “You are hardworking, kind, and clever. I should like to call you sister.” She pinned me with a stare that reminded me of the vampire she’d have become if I hadn’t interfered. “Do you find something objectionable about my brothers?”

I stared into the reflection of a glossy red pitcher, hoping for inspiration. How to answer that without being offensive? “No. They’re fine.”

Rebekah turned and peered at me through the corner of her eyes as she pretended to look at a serving plate with patterns painted around its edge. “I know they are considered handsome. And you see how they tend to their work.” She grabbed my arm and led me away. “Has not one of them caught your eye?”

“It’s not that simple,” I finished lamely.

Rebekah considered me for several long moments. “You still hope to return home.”

I glanced over and nodded.

She frowned lightly before moving again. Arm still linked with hers, I had no choice but to follow. “And what if you never return home? You cannot stay unwed, Ashley. You have no family to speak for you. It leaves you vulnerable.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve been alright with your family,” I said uncertainly.

“As a servant. But that leaves you with no rights. You would have many if you married.” Rebekah led me to the fabric wagon. She paused to pull out a length of white linen. “Mother likes you. She would convince father to overlook the fact you have no family or dowry. Not that it matters much here,” Rebekah sighed as she set the fabric down. She turned to fix me with a serious look. “Consider it?”

The conversation was surreal. “What do you want me to do? Pick a brother and—what?”

Rebekah gave me a knowing glance. “Make them notice you, of course.”

“I don’t know.” I frowned as I stared at the fabric. “It’s just… not how things are typically done where I’m from.” I picked up a length of blue linen. “We wait until we meet someone we like and date for a while. Then fall in love and eventually get engaged. And then married.”

Rebekah smiled. “That sounds lovely.” She glanced down before looking to me. “You could fall in love with one of my brothers, could you not?”

Could I? I’d spent so much time trying to view them professionally. Of course, they were handsome. They were all hard-working and intelligent.

And they were characters in a television show. This was insanity.

“How about this?” I asked her, picking out a length of red wool, showing it to her. “Wouldn’t this make a nice dress?”

Rebekah gave me a look that said she wasn’t fooled at all by my change in subject, but as she turned her eyes on the fabric, she nodded. “It would. I will ask mother if we might trade for it.”

We passed the other wagons, but Rebekah was more interested in what looked like a duel going on near an old white oak tree. “They are showing their skills with the sword,” she said, gripping my arm. “Let us watch.”

I agreed, and we followed the sounds of metal clanging and the cheers and jeers of the crowd.

The ground had been trampled, and still wet from the frost, had turned muddy. Rebekah and I lifted our hems as we joined the crowd of villagers. We ducked and turned to the side to squeeze through to the front.

Two men the size of bears swung two-handed broadswords at each other. The only way I was able to tell them apart was one had a longer, shaggier beard than the other. Their movements were slow, but the swords shivered each time the blades crashed together. The crowd egged them on, coin changing hands as the match went on. Rebekah kept a firm hold on my arm, staring at the fight, eyes gleaming with excitement.

After a while, shaggy beard ended up knocking the other man’s sword aside and jutted the point of his sword right up to his opponent’s adams apple.

Half the crowd cheered while the other half jeered. The two men who’d fought glared for a moment before they smiled under their beards, extending their hands and gripping one another's forearms. The loser patted the winners back and said congratulations.

The winner turned to the crowd and asked, “Who will fight next?!”

The crowd’s noise died down as people looked to one another. After a moment, Klaus emerged to stand beside the two giants. My eyes widened. He wasn’t going to fight shaggy beard?! He’d be chopped in half!

Thankfully, Elijah followed a moment later to the approval of the crowd. Apparently, brothers trying to cut each other’s heads off was great sport.

Rebekah’s grip tightened and she smiled at me. “Who do you think will best the other?” she asked me.

I had no idea. I’d seen them both, but only with Henrik, never against each other. Klaus won on the show, but this didn’t look to be that scene. There hadn’t been so big a crowd surrounding them at the time.

“Perhaps you should wed the winner!” Rebekah insisted with a grin.

I gave her a stern side-eye. “I’m not—”

“Winner gets a kiss!” Rebekah cried out, to the hearty approval of the crowd.

Klaus threw her a disgusted look. “I am not interested in a kiss from my sister.”

“Not from me.” Rebekah then put an arm over my shoulder and pushed me forward. “From Ashley!”

“Ohmygod,” I muttered in English, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as the crowd roared their approval.

I was going to kill Rebekah.

Klaus and Elijah exchanged a glance before shrugging. “Terms accepted,” Elijah said to another set of cheers. I had the feeling the crowd was set to shout about anything.

I grit my teeth and glared at Rebekah, and then Klaus and Elijah. I hadn’t agreed to this!

Before I could attempt to decline without turning the crowd against me, Elijah and Klaus drew their swords.

The sight of real swords instead of the practice wooden ones set my nerves on edge. The blades shone in the sun as the brothers faced each other. Slowly, they began to circle, eyes fixed on each other. Neither blinked.

Klaus made the first move, lunging forward at Elijah. Elijah blocked his strike with a ringing clang that had the crowd cheering. Klaus pushed against him, and Elijah had to extend a foot back to brace himself. Klaus then stepped to the side and swung again. With his right foot so far back, Elijah was not as graceful as he turned, but still managed to block Klaus’ swing just in time.

Klaus attacked again, right away. Elijah jumped back out of the way and rounded to Klaus’ side, which was open since he’d swung so hard the other direction. Elijah swung. Klaus spun. Their blades rang again.

The two continued this back-and-forth dance of steel. The crowd voiced their approval as the brothers tried to best each other. Rebekah had her hands clasped in front of her as she watched, cheering for neither. I couldn’t believe the two were able to fight so gracefully. They appeared to anticipate the other’s next move.

At one point they locked blades, and it became a test of strength as they pushed against the other. They seemed to speak, but what was said was lost to the goading of their audience. Finally, they pushed off at the same time.

Elijah lunged and swung downward, but Klaus spun out of the way and brought his own sword down. He caught Elijah’s blade at the top and forced it to the ground. His foot stepped on the flat of the blade, keeping it in the dirt, and brought his own blade up to Elijah’s neck.

The villagers went wild. Even those who’d rooted for Elijah shouted their congratulations for Klaus.

Elijah pursed his lips and glanced down at Klaus’ foot before smiling up at his brother. Klaus was already grinning, eyes shining with pride and victory. He moved his foot, allowing Elijah to lift his blade and sheathe it. Klaus sheathed his own sword a moment later. The two grabbed one another’s forearms and gave a shake. The crowd sounded is approval.

Klaus then turned to face his audience, searching for me before lifting a hand. “And my boon?”

My stomach fluttered as the crowd’s attention turned to me. I endured a few friendly shoves forward—one of which I was sure came from Rebekah—before giving in to the demands of the mob. I stepped forward, heart pounding and fingers starting to tingle as I crossed to a smirking Klaus.

He smelled of sweat and sunshine, and radiated heat. His chest was still rising and falling from his deadly dance. When I was near enough to reach out and touch him, I laid a hand on his arm and rose onto my toes to kiss his cheek. The stubble there scratched at my lips, sending a pleasant shiver across my skin.

I could hear the disapproving boos from the crowd as I settled back onto my heels. Klaus had a brow arched as he met my gaze, blue eyes still shining with triumph. I smirked. His smirk curled higher.

His arm wrapped around my waist, hand settling on the small of my back. Before I could say a word he pushed my body up against his. His other hand curled into my hair and held my head in place as he swooped down and pressed his lips against mine.

Klaus’ kiss was demanding. It was impossible not to respond to his eager entreaty. Before I realized it, my lips were parted we were kissing lustily.

By the time Klaus was done, separating with dark eyes staring down at me, I was thoroughly lightheaded, my body tingling. “That,” he said, voice lower than normal, “is a boon.”

I could only nod before his hand left the small of my back, distantly aware of the hoots and hollers from the crowd. He gazed at me for a few more moments before turning to the crowd and asking, “Who fights next?!”

I drifted back to Rebekah, my mind thoroughly scrambled. Rebekah wore a smug smile. I blinked, recalled my earlier anger, and folded my arms. “Don’t do that again.”

Rebekah’s brow rose. “Are you sure you do not wish me to?”

I let out a disgusted breath and marched off in search of somewhere else to be.

“Oh, do not be like that,” Rebekah complained as she hurried after, grabbing my arm and holding firm no matter how hard I tried to shake her off. “You enjoyed it,” she said through a smirk.

“Stop playing matchmaker, Rebekah,” I said firmly.

“But think of what beautiful children you would have together,” Rebekah continued, dogged.

“Oh my god,” I muttered in English, bringing up a hand to rub my forehead.

“Very well. I will not interfere,” she said after a moment. “But you should consider Nik, Ashley. He would make a good husband.”

“I think he’s taken with Tatia,” I refuted.

Rebekah scoffed. “She is too pleased having Elijah and Nik both. She plays with their affections.” She sent a sly look to me. “If you were genuine and true in _your_ affection, I have no doubt Nik would tire of Tatia’s games.”

“Can we just enjoy the festival?” I pleaded.

Rebekah sighed. “Very well.” She pouted. “You are no fun. Perhaps you are better suited for Elijah.”

I groaned.

The rest of the day passed in a variety of games, though none with the excitement of Elijah and Klaus’ duel.

By noon it was time for the sacrifices. I was eager to not have a front row seat for that, and Rebekah didn’t mind one way or another. I could hear the animals’ last cries, even if I couldn’t see from my vantage point in the middle of the crowd of villagers. They weren’t drawn out, thankfully, but I was sure they would haunt me come nightfall. I wanted to cover my ears, but the villagers wore reverent looks on their faces as they sacrificed their prized animals. I didn’t think it’d be welcome for me to reject any part of their ceremony, so I endured.

After the animals were dead, they were taken away to be prepared and cooked for the evening’s feast. While the important women of the village did that—including Esther—other villagers walked around with a bowl and a bundle of sticks. The sticks were dipped into the bowl and then brought out to be flicked at the men who stood in the crowd. When the men with the sticks came close to Rebekah and I, something splashed onto my face. Swiping at my cheek, I brought my thumb down and found a smear of red left behind. Blood.

I shivered, the cold of the air seeping deep into my bones.

“Will there be any more sacrifices?” I asked Rebekah quietly.

“No,” she replied, sounding bored. “We’ll drink to the gods tonight. After that, we feast and dance.” She pulled me back towards one of the houses where Corey was supposed to live. I was grateful to get away.

Corey wasn’t home, to Rebekah’s disappointment. Instead, we wandered back through the grounds until we came across Kol and Henrik by the storyteller’s table. With nothing better to do, we settled in to listen to his tales as the feast was prepared.

The time passed listening to the great epics until dusk fell and the bonfire was lit. The food was brought out and everyone gathered back at the tables to eat the variety of pig, sheep, and chicken dishes and drink strong ale. As Rebekah had promised, there were toasts to the gods asking for peace and fertile fields the following spring. Afterwards, we ate.

I felt a bit guilty when I had a moment to think about the hog we’d brought and the grim end for the other animals. It didn’t stop me from eating, though. It was the best meal I’d had since we’d gotten into the heart of winter. I ate till my belly was full.

The music started up soon after, and as before, dancing commenced. This time, I watched from the table as the villagers spun around the fire. Halfway through the evening, Corey approached and asked Rebekah for a turn, to which she happily agreed. We shared a grin before she was whisked away. I stayed and clapped in time with the drums.

Once again, I found Niklaus dancing with Tatia, both of them smiling and enjoying the evening. This time, a pang of annoyance had my eyes darting away from the sight. Which was silly. We’d had a single stupid kiss because of a meddling Rebekah. I had no right to be jealous.

And yet, as my eyes kept cutting back to the pair, that was exactly what I was.

I turned my back to the dancing and nursed my ale for the rest of the evening.

* * *

It was a few weeks after the festival that winter finally caught up with me.

It began as a tickle in my throat after I’d woken up. However, by midday, my throat was sore, and I had developed a chest-deep cough. I had a linen rag pressed permanently to my nose as it wouldn’t stop running. I begged off food preparation, worried about spreading my cold.

Esther gave me a tea I couldn’t smell or taste. Afterwards, it did ease my inflamed throat so that I was able to drink some broth. “Go to bed early,” she advised.

Body aching like an old woman’s, I agreed.

That night, I woke covered in sweat and burning up.

I nearly toppled off the log as I struggled down the crude steps on my belly, something I hadn’t done for months. On the ground, I grabbed a candle from the shelf and lit it in the remnants of the fire before stepping outside.

A light dusting of snow was on the ground. I hadn’t bothered putting on my sneakers, and it felt heavenly against my overheated feet. I wandered further out, head so light, I feared it would float away from my body. I collapsed as the hill turned steeply downward, unable to manage to keep my feet under me and go further down. I laid back, sighing as the snow hit my dress, the icy chill seeping through to my feverish skin.

The stars spun above me, and I watched the trail of lights they left behind as I laid beneath them.

I couldn’t say how long I laid there. Long enough for wax to drip down the candle and onto my fingers. I still felt warm, but the occasional gust of wind was almost enough to cool me all the way down.

At some point, the door creaked open and footsteps crunched through the snow to where I laid. “What in the name of the gods are you doing?!”

My eyes rolled back and Klaus’ stunned face, sharpened by firelight, was leaning over me. “Cooling off.”

He dropped beside me, breath misting out in front of him. Gingerly, the back of his hand touched my forehead. He inhaled sharply and pulled his hand back. “You are taken with fever.”

“That’s what I said,” I replied, annoyed.

He shook his head and plucked the candle from my grip. “You will freeze out here.”

“Good,” I sighed. “I hate the heat.”

“Foolish girl,” he chided before pinching the candle out with his fingers. Tucking it away into his pouch, he then slid his hands under my shoulders and hauled me up.

Sitting, the dizziness came back worse then ever, and I groaned. The world tilted. If not for Klaus, I would have fallen over.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

I considered it. The trees were now wavering. “No,” I decided. I tried to slide back down to the ground. “Leave me.”

“I will not,” Klaus argued, settling me against his shoulder. “All I need is to be blamed for your death,” he muttered before slipping his other hand beneath my knees.

I groaned again as he lifted me and stood. My head rolled down his shoulder, until I was tucked under his chin. “You’re pretty strong.”

He huffed. “You are too light,” he argued. “Henrik could carry you.”

“Whatever.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Moving made my vertigo worse. “You should take the compliment.”

Klaus sighed. “Very well. My thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmured. I frowned as the heat began seeping back into my skin. “I’m hot again,” I complained.

“Mother will fix you some medicine,” Klaus replied as we reached the door.

I rolled my eyes. “Herbs.”

“Yes,” Klaus agreed, before adjusting my upper body to lay against his chest as he reached for the door. “Now be silent.”

“As a mouse,” I whispered.

Klaus sighed again and pushed the door in. Even in the dark, he stepped with surety to the table, placing me onto the bench. I laid my head onto the tabletop, rolling my forehead over the wood’s cold surface.

Klaus stepped to the loft, to the opposite side where Esther and Mikael slept. “Mother,” he whispered. He repeated the call a few times.

“Niklaus?” Esther murmured.

“Ashley is very ill, mother. I found her outside, burning with fever.”

“I told you the girl would not last the winter,” Mikael grumbled.

Esther and Klaus ignored him. There was a shuffle of blankets and furs. A few other voices thick with sleep were wondering what was happening. Esther shushed them all before the log creaked as she stepped down.

Soon, a slender and cool hand was pressing against my forehead before cupping the back of my neck. “Build the fire back up, Niklaus,” Esther whispered.

“Yes, mother,” Niklaus replied.

The next few days was something I was only half-aware of as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I know Esther tended to me, forcing me to drink teas and feeding me broth. I laid on the floor in a small nest of furs, the easier to be moved outside for a few minutes when I became too feverish. Coughing and shivering, alternatively burning up and then wracked with chills, it was easily the most miserable of all my days in Medieval wonderland. I was certain I would die. From the way Mikael would glance at me on his way past, I was sure he thought so, too.

I think Esther may have bled me at one point, but I was too out of it to be certain.

Then came the afternoon when I felt horribly weak, but otherwise normal. Seeing I was awake, Esther came over to check on me and proclaimed my fever had broken.

“I’m alive?” I wondered.

She smiled at me. “Yes, Ashley.”

I hummed and cuddled deeper under the furs, letting out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Esther.”

“You are welcome.”

It was yet another few days before I was able to resume my chores. I spent my time off playing a medieval version of chess with Kol (who was a terrible cheat) and recounting Disney movies to Henrik.

I was almost glad to be back in the coop nearly a week later cleaning out chicken poop. Better than the alternative, anyway.

Hauling the old straw out, I was carrying an armful of it to the refuse pile when Niklaus loped up beside me. I spared a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, noted the smirk he wore, and refocused on my task. “Something you need, Klaus?”

“An answer,” he said, grinning. He studied my face. “You look much improved.”

“I feel much better,” I agreed.

Klaus kept pace with me for another few minutes before speaking again. “I could not help but wonder if you meant what you said.”

Nearing the midden heap—mostly old straw, bones, and garbage we couldn’t feed to the hogs—I slowed and pushed the latest armful of straw onto the pile. Cringing slightly as I wiped off my arms, I moved away from the noxious pile and squinted up through the morning sunshine to find Klaus was still amused. “What I said?”

“While I was helping mother tend you,” Klaus clarified. Or so he seemed to think. I still had no idea what he was talking about.

“Sorry,” I said, starting back for the coop. “I don’t remember that.”

“No?” Klaus was smiling widely now. “When you patted my cheek and told me I was your favorite?”

My footsteps stuttered and I nearly tripped. Would have, if Klaus hadn’t suddenly grabbed my arm and steadied me.

Neck and face tingling, I had to suppress the urge to cover my face with my hands until I had the chance to wash them. I bit my lip instead, staring straight ahead to the chicken coop.

“Apparently,” Klaus went on, though I wished he’d shut up. “You think I am very… _hot_ ,” he finished, using the English word. His eyes twinkled as he peered down at me. “What does that mean?”

“Oh my god,” I muttered in English.

“What was that?” he asked, tilting his head so that his ear was nearer to me.

I took a breath and looked up at him. He was beaming with suppressed laughter. I suddenly wished the storm would come and whisk me away.

Hustling back to the coop—not that Klaus had trouble keeping pace with his longer legs—I scowled. “It means hot,” I told him in Norse.

Klaus’ brows dropped in confusion. “Hot?”

I fought off the heat rising up my neck. “Yeah. I think you’re hot,” I said, somehow maintaining a straight face as I met his stare.

Klaus squinted at me as he studied my expression, which I kept polite. “Ah,” he said after a moment, sounding more unsure. “I do not feel feverish.”

I had the insane urge to giggle. I cleared my throat. “That’s good.” I stepped lightly around the chickens as I made for the coop’s door. Klaus watched me for a few moments before wandering away. I sighed and sent a brief prayer of thanks to whoever was listening for modern slang getting lost in translation.


	7. þræll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add a tag for Attempted Sexual Assault for this chapter. Please skip to the next chapter if such subject matter is too disturbing.

“Tell me the tale again,” Henrik begged from his spot on the table.

Rebekah, Esther, and I exchanged a look before I pounded on the dough. “Again?” I flipped it over and began beating the other side before peering over my shoulder. “Aren’t you sick of hearing it?”

Henrik sat at the edge of his seat, gaze pleading—brown eyes as wide as they could go. He shook his head. Klaus sat next to him, a cup of ale in hand. He gazed down at Henrik before his sights flickered to me, that familiar smirk curling his lips.

“Oh, all right,” I said, looking back to my task as I began, “Once, there was a very selfish, but very wealthy, man named—”

“Tony!” Henrik burst out excitedly.

I left the dough on the shelf and spun about, fists falling onto my hips. “Are you telling the story?”

Henrik ducked his head. “Sorry.”

I arched a brow, but seeing his little pout, I couldn’t help but smile a little. “That’s right. Tony. Tony Stark.”

Henrik grinned.

I turned back to the shelf and my dough. “Tony Stark was a brilliant blacksmith who made many weapons for the army. But he didn’t just make the same swords and shields. He liked to create new weapons no one had ever seen before.” I turned the dough over and began kneading it again. “But the army didn’t know if they could use all of Tony’s weapons, so he would have to show them how dangerous they were. One day, they journeyed to a desert land to test his most dangerous weapon yet.”

“A catapult!” Henrik said, eyes bright as he leaned excitedly forward.

“Not just any catapult,” I replied, brow lifted as I spun around. “This one threw fire that—” I extended my fingers and waved my hands out going, “BOOM!” Old Norse didn’t have a word for explode, so I had to improvise.

Henrik, laughing, obviously loved it.

“The wind from the,” hands waving again, “BOOM!” another delighted laugh, “was so great, it blew back all their hair and clothes, even though they stood far, far away.”

“But the bad guys saw it too!” Henrik said.

“That’s right,” I replied, turning back to the dough. “They realized the famous blacksmith, Tony Stark, had come to their lands. And because they knew the land better than the warriors that had gone with Tony, they were able to ambush them, and capture To—”

The door opened suddenly with a blast of cold air. Kol and Elijah walked in, the latter looking fairly irritated with the former as they shrugged off their cloaks.

“Welcome home, Elijah, Kol,” Esther greeted.

“Mother,” Elijah replied before he and Kol made for the table.

“You interrupted the story,” Henrik pouted.

“Oh?” Kol looked to me as he swung a leg over the bench and sat. “Telling another tale, are you?”

“He wanted to hear Iron Man again.”

“Again?!” Kol scoffed, reaching a hand around Klaus to ruffle Henrik’s hair, despite Henrik’s attempt to duck away. “You’ve heard it a dozen times.” Kol leaned back and ignored Henrik’s mulish pout, “Tell a new one, Ashley.”

“No!” Henrik’s pout deepened to a scowl. “I like Iron Man!”

“Maybe you’ll like the new one more,” Kol replied as he accepted his cup from me. He glanced up. “Come now, love. Tell us something different?”

“Don’t try to sweet talk me with that love nonsense,” I scolded before filling his cup.

Klaus and Elijah chuckled as Kol put a hand over his heart. “I would never! I am nothing but most sincere!”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.” I set another cup down for Elijah, smiling at his thank you, before pouring his share of ale.

“Your doubt in my undying affection for you is a dagger to the heart, my lady,” Kol replied. His declaration was ruined by the wry twist to his lips.

Klaus snorted. “The only thing you have undying affection for is yourself.”

Kol smirked. “Well, have you seen me?”

Klaus rolled his eyes and scoffed while Elijah folded his arms and leaned back. I paused by Elijah. “Has he been like this long?”

“All day,” Elijah rumbled lowly.

I gripped his shoulder and squeezed with my free hand. “My sympathies.”

Elijah looked over and smiled up at me.

“What news from the village?” Esther asked as she brought them both warm bowls of soup.

Elijah straightened as he accepted his. “Gerda and Tormund have had their first girl.”

Esther smiled as she set Kol’s bowl down in front of him. “How wonderful.”

“The soothsayer says we are to begin planting before the next moon,” Elijah went on after having a spoonful of soup.

“What of Corey?” Rebekah asked as she whirled about. “Did you see him? Did he ask after me?” Everyone’s attention fell on her, but she lifted her chin and demanded, “Well?”

“We did indeed see the fletcher’s boy,” Elijah replied after a moment. “He asked after the family.”

“The whole family?” Rebekah returned, dismayed.

Elijah nodded.

She sighed and turned back to the shelf. Esther placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was mere pleasantries, dearest.”

Rebekah shrugged off Esther’s hand, staring forlornly into the pot of soup as she stirred.

“You could do much better than Corey, little sister,” Klaus commented before taking a drink.

Elijah took a breath and sent a warning look Klaus’ way, which was ignored, as Rebekah’s back straightened before she whirled around. “If it were up to you, I should never be married at all!”

Klaus, eyes wide and glancing aside, lifted his hands in surrender.

Rebekah glared daggers at him before turning back to the meal.

Klaus, Kol, and Elijah shared a glance before turning back to their respective bowls or cups.

I sidled next to Rebekah. “Maybe he was too intimidated by Elijah to ask after you,” I said quietly.

Rebekah scoffed, blinking quickly. My heart sunk as I realized she was trying not to cry. “If he is so intimidated by Elijah, how would he ever ask father for my hand?” She pressed her lips into an angry line before going on. “And why has he not called on us all winter?” Her lip quivered before she went quiet.

If we had been back home in our time, I’d have told her there are plenty of other fish in the sea. That she was young and had lots of time to meet the right guy. But here, Rebekah was at the age where she should have been married, and the pickings she had were the boys from the village. Corey was obviously the one she’d had her heart set on. Since I’d known her, at least.

“Why don’t you girls go and collect more water before the sun falls?” Esther suggested. “We are running low.”

Rebekah loosed a long breath before handing the spoon over to Esther and going to the corner where the empty buckets were stacked. I picked up two after she had hers in hand.

We went to the cloaks hanging near the door, each taking one and donning them before heading outside.

It seemed that winter was in the period where it was beginning to melt into spring, but the wind still retained its bite. The grass was mostly yellow as we walked down the hill, but there were no patches of snow or frost on the ground. The dirt had even dried from the morning’s frost, so it wasn’t as muddy on the path.

The forest branches were still bare, and sunlight beamed eagerly down upon us. The forest was quiet without the rustle of leaves or bushes, and nary a bird for miles. Just the crunch of our footsteps as we paraded towards the stream. Rebekah’s sullen mood put a damper on the walk, and there wasn’t any talk as we traveled the trail.

The burble of water was the first sound outside the occasional whistle of wind and our footsteps I heard. We wandered to a portion where the bank tipped into a deeper pool within the stream, a short way down from some larger boulders the waters rushed over. The stream was clear, and one could see all the way to the bottom, where small, colored stones lay over the mud.

We held our hems in our hands and bent over to fill our buckets, one at a time. Once we were all laden with our burdens, we were about to start back up the trail when Rebekah paused, brows cinched together. “Hold on,” she said, holding out a hand.

“What?”

“I heard a noise,” she explained, squinting as she peered into the woods. “A branch breaking.”

I leaned over and stared into the trees. I saw nothing but their tall trunks and the green branches of the firs. “Maybe it was a deer.”

Rebekah frowned. “Perhaps,” she allowed.

We waited for a time, the buckets seeming to grow heavier as they hung from our arms. I shifted my feet, restless to be on our way.

And then I heard it as well. Only it wasn’t the snap of a breaking branch, it was the rattle of metal. A sound one would not expect to hear in nature. Then came the sound of branches snapping and leaves crunching. Footsteps, I realized.

“Who goes there?” Rebekah called.

Then, a man appeared out of the woods. He was dressed in a long red tunic while a longsword hung from his belt. He appeared as surprised to see us as we were to see him. “Hugin,” he called back.

Rebekah’s brows pinched so tightly together, I thought they’d become one. “I do not know you, Hugin.”

He eyed Rebekah and I and seemed to relax. He was a man a little over thirty, with dark hair and a thick beard. “No? I know of you. Daughter of Mikael.” His sights zeroed in on me and his lips curled. “And your _þræll_.”

Rebekah did not relax at this news. If anything, her shoulders tightened. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I expect,” he said easily, lifting a bucket.

Rebekah frowned and took my arm. “Then we shall leave you to it,” she said, pulling me aside with her.

He moved to intercept us, stepping in front of our path. Rebekah and I came to a sudden halt. His eyes shifted between us. “So soon?”

Rebekah gripped her buckets and nodded. “Yes. We are due home. My brothers may be on their way seeking us as we speak.”

“Hm.” Hugin replied, eyes shifting again to me. “I was disappointed you were not a prize to be won for more duels.”

At first, I didn’t realize what he’d meant. Then, as I remembered the festival, and Rebekah volunteering me to kiss the winner between her brothers, I realized his implication. My stomach knotted. “Yeah, well. We all live with disappointment.”

His brows lifted and he looked to Rebekah. “She talks back?”

“She is free to speak her mind,” Rebekah replied, shifting slightly in front of me.

He hummed, staring at us in a way that had my blood turning cold. “In my day, we would collar our _þræll_.”

Rebekah turned to me. “Come.”

She started walking, and I went after her so quickly, I nearly stepped on her hem. When he moved to intercept us, Rebekah tried to lead me around him. But he sidestepped into our path again.

“Move!” Rebekah ordered, but I could hear the fear trembling beneath her command.

Hugin grinned, and it was not a pleasant thing—and not just because of his yellow teeth. “At once,” he said, mockingly, moving aside.

Rebekah eyed him but swiftly walked around his bulk.

But as I went to pass, his hand struck out like a snake, grabbing onto my arm. The bucket I held tipped over him, and he scowled as his pants were soaked, along with my dress’ skirts. “What the hell?!” I shouted in English.

Rebekah whirled, eyes wide with horror as she took in Hugin’s hold. “Let her go!”

“I think not.” He yanked me closer to him, until his belly pressed against me. A wave of revulsion shivered through me, upsetting my stomach and making me itch to get out of my very skin. I leaned back, trying to jerk my arm out of his hold—but he held firm and yanked me back into him.

“I shall tell my father!” Rebekah warned, voice pitched high.

“Go ahead.” He snorted. “I have some silver to spare.”

Rebekah turned terrified eyes to me.

“Go on now, girl,” Hugin said to Rebekah, moving his other hand towards the bust of my dress.

“I shall get help!” she cried before dropping her buckets, the water within splashing down onto the ground. She whirled around and raced up the bank to the trees.

My mind went numb as she disappeared up the path. My stomach dropped and my blood turned cold as Hugin’s hand took hold of the collar of my dress and began to tug at it, jerking me to and fro. My hands began to tremble, but I kept hold of the buckets. A rip sent a spike of dread into my brain, waking me up.

I shouted, and with nothing else but two buckets—one full and the other empty—swung the empty one at him. It shook as it slammed into his arm. With a great ‘OOF!’ he let go and backed up. But terror had me fully in its grip. I was a woman possessed. I whipped the empty bucket back and then swung it with all my might at him. It collided with his side with a great whump.

He spat a word at me that I didn’t know but was pretty sure wasn’t nice. My heart pounded. Adrenalin had my nerves singing, my world narrowed in on his head of dark, thinning hair. I put all my strength into swinging back the full bucket, and with gravity’s help, whipped it around at his head.

The thunk it made as it hit his skull was very satisfying.

Hugin crumpled to the ground. I stood, breathing hard, staring at his closed eyes. Had I killed him?

What if I hadn’t?

I dropped the buckets and sprinted for the trees, grabbing my skirts and hauling them up when they nearly tripped me.

I didn’t stop. I raced up the path, panting in terror. The trees were now malevolent entities that could hide the man I’d just left behind on the bank. Or other men.

I must have covered half the trail in a few minutes running pell-mell. Finally, I had to slow to a jog. My stomach was sour, and I turned for a moment to spit out the bile climbing my throat. My pulse was pounding, and I had the terrible urge to scream. I slowed to a stop and set my hands on my thighs, bending over to breathe.

After a moment, I started back at a fast jog. I was almost to the end of the path when I heard the beat of running footsteps. I slowed, glancing to either side of the path and sprinted for the nearest tree. I managed to slip behind one just as the footsteps resolved into people.

But then I noticed their familiar faces and let out a long, relieved breath. “Elijah! Klaus!”

The stopped, startled as they turned towards the tree I had hidden behind. I stepped out, probably looking half-crazed.

“Ashley?” Elijah said before both moved towards me.

I managed to meet him halfway, despite the tremors that now gripped me. I stood, trembling between them, eyes wide and wild.

Elijah set his hands on my shoulders, and noticing my shivering, frowned. His sights dropped down, examining me, pausing on my dress where my collar was torn to my sleeve. His lips pressed together before he looked up. “What happened?”

“I—hit him.” I looked back over my shoulder, as if he might appear out of the trees. “With the buckets. He’s out.” I swallowed as I turned back. “I think.”

Elijah and Klaus’ eyes rounded in surprise before they exchanged a look, their brows furrowing.

“You struck him,” Elijah clarified, sounding grim as he turned back to study me.

I stared. “He was—he’d grabbed me!” My voice had climbed a whole octave.

Elijah squeezed my shoulders, nodding. “Yes. Rebekah feared he would.” He took a breath and stared at me. “Ashley, he’s a freeman.”

I just looked at him for a moment before, “I don’t understand.”

Elijah and Klaus exchanged another grim look. “He has protection under the law,” Klaus said. “Whereas you—”

“You have no family and are foreign,” Elijah said gently. “You are, for all intents and purposes, _þræll_.”

“What—I don’t—who _cares_!”

Elijah grimaced while Klaus frowned. “The law,” Klaus replied. “You attacked a freeman.”

“He tried to—to hurt me!” I said, speaking quickly. “It was self-defense!”

“Yes, we believe you,” Elijah assured me.

“You have only Rebekah as a witness,” Klaus went on somberly. “But even were a man there to vouch for you, you would not have the right to strike a freeman.”

“That’s _insane_ ,” I said, slipping into English.

They must have caught the gist. They were frowning. Elijah looked down the path. “We shall have to hope the shame of being bested by a woman will keep him silent.”

I hugged myself, rubbing my upper arms, trying to get some warmth back into them. “What if he doesn’t stay quiet?”

Elijah cupped my neck before letting go. “Let us bring you inside.”

I jerked out of his hold, alternating my stare between them. “What happens if he talks?”

Elijah’s jaw ticked out before he looked to the ground. Klaus studied me before he said, “He will demand compensation from you. If you cannot pay it, he will claim you as his _þræll_.”

It was as if the bottom had dropped out beneath me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on as my blood ran cold. “Are you serious?” I whispered.

“He speaks truly,” Elijah murmured.

“Come,” Klaus said with surprising gentleness as he slipped his hand behind my back.

Flanked by Elijah and Klaus, the two men guided me back up the path and the hill to the house that had become my temporary home. I felt as if I were floating as I stepped inside the warm single room.

“Ashley!” Rebekah cried, hurrying across the room to pull me into a hug.

The shock of Rebekah’s arms squeezing me so tight brought some of the world back into focus. My shivers slowly calmed. I took a breath and hugged her back.

She leaned back and, with tears in her eyes, smiled at me. “You are fine! Thank goodness,” she breathed, half laughing. She put a hand to her chest. “I feared the worst!”

“What happened,” Esther asked as she came up behind Rebekah.

Klaus and Elijah exchanged a look over my head. I grimaced.

Esther stared each of us down. “Tell me,” she insisted.

“We found her on the path. She had already gotten away,” Elijah explained.

Esther’s brows lifted as she glanced at me. “And how did she manage that?”

“She struck him,” Klaus replied.

Esther’s eyes widened. She took a deep breath before meeting my eyes and smiling. “Come and sit at the table. You have yet to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said quietly.

“You must,” she insisted, guiding me across the dirt floor and to the table. Kol was eyeing me with unusual pity in his eyes as Esther pressed me down onto the bench. “Rebekah?”

“Yes, mother,” Rebekah said quietly as she hurried to pour me some water.

“The ale,” Esther told her before turning to the pot of soup.

Rebekah paused before picking up the other pitcher and pouring a cup for me. Elijah sat across from me, dark eyes filled with sadness whenever I met them. So I kept my gaze down. Klaus began to pace the room, the scratch of his leather soles joining with the obscenely cheerful crackling of the fire.

I had a flashback to the first day I arrived. When they had served me. Was this to be one my last dinner with them? How long would it take Hugin to come and demand payment? Or would there be a formal court proceeding?

I dipped my spoon into the soup set in front of me and did my best to sip it down.

I was halfway through my bleak supper when Mikael and Finn returned from their hunt. I winced as I heard his heavy footfalls. Esther moved quickly to intercept him, and in a low voice, explained what had happened.

Mikael was quiet for a time. Then his boots thumped across the room. I felt him stand behind me, a great looming presence behind my back. Swallowing, I put down my spoon and twisted, slowly, to meet his stare.

Mikael looked down at me without expression. Then, to my shock, his hand settled on my shoulder. “It was a brave thing you did,” he said, approval warming his voice.

My jaw dropped as I stared up at him.

The rest of the house had a similarly shocked reaction. Mine wasn’t the only open mouth. Elijah’s lips were parted as he stared in outright bafflement at his father. Kol had a lifted brow before taking another deep drink from his ale. Klaus had stopped pacing, but I couldn’t see his expression. Finn wore a small smile and likewise clapped my shoulder as Mikael moved away.

“What shall we do, father?” Rebekah asked him.

He frowned as he removed his cloak. “The law is clear,” he said simply.

Rebekah clenched her hands into fists. “But—”

“We must obey the law,” he snapped at her.

Rebekah’s mouth clicked shut. Her sights shifted down to glare at the floor.

Kol snorted as his cup thumped against the table. “Load of bull—”

“Kol!” Esther reprimanded.

Kol rolled his eyes and folded his arms, stewing.

An uneasy quiet settled over the house. I stared miserably down at my stew.

A knock sounded on the door.

It was if lightening had struck. Everyone sat or stood straighter. Glances were exchanged all around.

Lips pressed into a grim line, Mikael turned and marched across the room before pulling open the door.

Although I had only seen him once, I would never forget Hugin. His soft, round face and beady brown eyes. Thinning black hair that climbed his head. His worn and frayed clothes, now dirty from his brief nap on the bank. “Mikael,” he said.

“Hugin, son of Almarr,” Mikael answered.

Hugin shifted to search over Mikael’s shoulder. His sights scanned the room, and when they landed on me, narrowed. “I come to demand compensation from your _þræll_.”

Tension suddenly filled the whole room. My stomach clenched, until I felt I might vomit the soup I’d just eaten.

Mikael leaned on the doorframe, cutting off Hugin’s sight of me—and mine of him. “For what?”

“The little—” and he said a word that I didn’t know but whose utterance had Elijah and Kol standing and glaring— “struck me in the head.”

“Is that so?” Mikael returned evenly.

“It is. By Thor, I swear it to be the truth.”

Mikael grimaced and glanced down. “How much?”

“Does it matter?” Hugin sneered. “Does your _þræll_ have any silver to pay?”

“How. Much?” Mikael growled.

Hugin moved back. After a moment, he said, “Twenty pieces.”

“Twenty pieces,” Klaus snapped. “What madness!” He turned to his father. “His family would not demand so much if she had killed him!”

“True,” Mikael replied, turning back to Hugin.

Hugin scowled. “Very well. Ten,” Hugin replied, folding his arms. “Does the _þræll_ have it or not?”

Mikael slowly turned to stare at me. I met his eyes, my hands starting to tremble. I clenched them into fists to try and hide it. “Do you have it?”

He knew I didn’t. I didn’t have a penny. Or whatever passed as a penny. “No,” I whispered.

“Then I shall take the _þræll_ as recompense,” Hugin announced, his eyes falling to me, gleaming with pleasure.

Mikael grimaced, but slowly moved aside.

Rebekah stepped forward and put her hands on my shoulders. “Father!”

“Stand back, Rebekah,” Mikael ordered as Hugin stepped past the threshold. Esther stepped forward and grabbed Rebekah’s arms, pulling her back.

Hugin reached into a pouch and pulled out a giant metal ring. Rebekah threw her hands up to her mouth and gasped. Elijah moved so violently the planks on the table shifted, spilling ale and stew everywhere. Finn swore.

Hugin eyed Elijah but unsnapped and opened the ring, revealing it parted into two half circles. He moved towards me. I stood up and jolted backwards as he came near.

He was about to reach towards my neck with the open ring—no, collar, I realized—when Klaus’ hand dropped onto his wrist.

“What are you doing, boy?” Hugin asked boldly, but his eyes darted to Klaus’ hand nervously.

“Niklaus!” Mikael hissed.

“I do apologize,” Klaus began, with a smoothness that I hadn’t heard from him before but reminded me of his future self. “Unfortunately, there has been a bit of a misunderstanding,” he finished with a frighteningly thin smile.

“What are you talking about?” Mikael demanded.

“I did not wish to say anything yet, father,” Klaus said, glancing towards Mikael before his stare returned to Hugin. “I intended to wait for spring, but I see I have no choice. You see, Ashely is not _þræll_.”

Hugin’s brows pinched together. His was not the only confused face. “Of course the girl is. Everyone knows it.”

“The girl _was_ ,” Klaus corrected. His thin smile spread. “Until a few days ago. When she agreed to marry me.”

“What?!” Hugin demanded, cheeks flushing with fury as his eyes fixed on Klaus.

All the blood in my head drained until I was afraid I’d fall. I reached out. Rebekah gripped my hand and moved up beside me, helping me stay standing.

Everyone stared at Klaus and Hugin, no one saying a word. Mikael had his eyes narrowed as he stared at his son. Klaus simply smiled.

“You lie!” Hugin accused, wresting his arm from Klaus’ grip.

Klaus’ brows fell, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. His mouth stretched into a thin white line before he spoke. “You question my honor?” he asked quietly, hand moving to his sword.

Hugin grimaced, eyes darting between Klaus’ sword and his face. “No,” he eventually forced out between clenched teeth.

Klaus’ expression remained dark and threatening. “Then perhaps I should ask my intended why she felt the need to strike you, Hugin.”

Hugin paled, his eyes darting to me before returning to Klaus. “A misunderstanding, good Niklaus,” he said, ending with a nervous laugh.

“A misunderstanding that ends with a tear in her bodice?” Elijah questioned lowly.

“Let’s gut him,” Kol announced with a smile, flashing his knife.

“Enough,” Mikael barked. He glared at a wide-eyed, sweaty Hugin. “If your business is concluded, I suggest you take your leave.”

Hugin glared once more at Klaus, who returned it with a dark look of his own. Shifting his glare to me, Hugin spat on the ground before stomping across the room and out the door. Mikael waited until he was well down the hill before shutting the door.

“Holy shit,” I gasped in English, collapsing against Rebekah’s side.

Mikael then marched across the room and grabbed Klaus’ collar, swinging him around into one of the posts that held up the roof. “What have you done, boy?”

I gaped at the pair as Klaus grimaced and grabbed Mikael’s wrists. “What had to be done,” Klaus replied.

Mikael scowled at him, shoving him back up against the post. Klaus grunted and grit his teeth. “And when she is not married and Hugin returns for her?!” Mikael demanded. “Did you consider that?!”

“Then she will have to be married,” Klaus said through clenched teeth.

“We could just kill him,” Kol suggested from the table before sipping from his cup.

Mikael’s head whipped around to glare at him. “We are _not_ starting a blood feud!”

Elijah’s jaw ticked as he stared at Klaus and Mikael. Finn folded his arms and bowed his head.

Mikael’s glare returned to Klaus, who was struggling in his grip. “You would marry the girl, is that it?”

“I said as much, did I not?” Klaus returned.

Mikael scoffed, shoving him against the post one more time before letting him go. “A girl with no family. No dowry. And foreign born.”

“The same could be said for mother,” Klaus retorted as he leaned against the post.

Mikael’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, boy.”

“It is but the truth,” Klaus retorted.

“I had the means to support a family,” Mikael argued. “What do you offer?” he spat.

Klaus glanced down, saying nothing.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everything was happening so fast, my head was spinning. “Don’t I get a say?”

Six pairs of eyes turned to me. I swallowed.

“Don’t be foolish, Ashley,” Rebekah murmured, squeezing my hand. “If you do not marry Nik, Hugrid will take you as his _þræll_.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I complained as my sights roamed the room. “I’ve never heard it before today.”

“One who is not free,” Mikael said, turning to face me. “One who must do as their master commands. You are no better than an animal in the eyes of the village.”

I blanched. “What? But…” I turned to Rebekah. “I thought I was a servant.”

Mikael scoffed as he looked around. “You have no family. You are foreign.” He aimed a look at me. “We may not have taken you from your land, but you are dependent upon us all the same.”

“I was _þræll_ before I married Mikael,” Esther said gently. “I insisted we treat you as a servant of my homeland, not a _þræll_.” She frowned. “But according to the law, _þræll_ is what you are.”

My legs were going to give. I moved to the table and collapsed onto the bench. “This is nuts,” I muttered in English.

Rebekah hurried to sit beside me, smiling. “But this is wonderful, Ashley!”

I slowly turned to stare at her, wondering at her sanity.

She grinned. “We shall be sisters after all!”

“Hurrah,” Kol wryly commented.

My sights sought out Klaus, who grimaced as he straightened away from the post. He met my stare and frowned.

I stared down at my hands, one of which was engulfed in Rebekah’s hands. “Hurrah.”


	8. Preparations

It was a very strange month.

The winter thawed into spring. The men returned to the fields to plant. We sought shelter in the caverns at the next full moon.

And I was engaged.

Well, that was not the viking word for it. The _handsal_ was more like a contract negotiated between families. Seeing as I had none yet born in this universe, it was the decision of the Lord of the house—Mikael in our case—that sealed the agreement. If Mikael had not married a _þræll_ himself, I doubted he’d have allowed Klaus’ ruse to go forward. However, he seemed content to let Klaus make his own bed—as it were—and lie in it.

But one wouldn’t have known anything was different from my perspective. Apart from a giddy Rebekah, and the fact Klaus had been moved next to his parents when it was time to sleep, nothing much changed. The only marked difference was that Klaus had not returned to the fields with the others. Instead, he had taken to combing through the forest with Mikael and Finn. They were attempting to hunt bigger game for the money needed for the ceremony.

But things went on in the home as they always had. And, as I began to realize, they would. For a very long time if I didn’t die of illness or accident. I tried not to think about the mundanity of my daily tasks. I sought, instead, to be grateful I’d found a family to belong to given the alternative.

The life of a medieval housewife had to be better than a slave.

“A sprig of sage,” Esther instructed as she plucked said herb from the rafters and tossed them into the pot. She smiled kindly at me. “Dried, of course. But no more than a year.” She stirred. “Another herb that is best replaced when the fresh plant is ready to be harvested.”

I nodded as I watched her. Esther was a veritable fount of knowledge when it came to herbs. “Right.”

“I have asked Elijah and Kol to trade for some linen and wool on their next trip to the village,” she went on as she stirred. She glanced at me. “Do you know how to sew, Ashley?”

Frowning, I shook my head. “No.”

Esther had gotten used to that response by now. “I shall show you a few simple patterns for a shift and a dress.” She nodded towards the rip that Rebekah had hastily patched for me on my own undyed dress. “You should have that replaced.” She tilted her head. “Do you prefer a certain color?”

My favorite color was purple, but that wasn’t an option. “Oh. I like green, I suppose.”

She smiled. “A green dress would be lovely, dear. It would match your eyes.”

My returning smile was genuine. It would be nice to have some new clothes.

Esther removed the spoon and knocked it on the side of the pot. The clangs echoed throughout the room. “You shall practice darning some of the boys’ old clothes. Henrik will be needing them before too long.” She sighed. “They grow so quickly.”

My smile trembled a little bit, but I bravely kept it up. Children. Without modern day birth control, that was sure to be a thing sooner rather than later. Also, Dahlia’s firstborn Rumpelstiltskin act—which Esther had yet to mention. Fantastic stuff to look forward to, I supposed.

Before I could fall any deeper into that rabbit hole, the door opened and Elijah, Kol, and Henrik trooped in. Grateful for the distraction, I readied the pitchers of water and ale. The men let out various noises of relief as they sat down and slouched in their seats. Henrik let his head fall onto the tabletop with a groan.

The work of planting was not easy. Each day they came back tired, sweaty, aching, and dirty. I wished I knew enough about modern machinery to help improve the plows, but my associate degree was in liberal arts, not engineering. So I filled their cups with ale and water and brought out the basin for them to wash their hands.

Rebekah was back soon after. She had begun tending the animals so I could learn more of the art of cooking from Esther. To my gratitude, she wasn’t bitter about it. Like most things that had to do with teaching me to be a good wife, she was all too happy to help. The poor girl was that desperate for companionship.

We had just served dinner to a drop-dead tired Elijah and Kol when the door suddenly banged open. Startled, we all turned to see Klaus standing at the threshold, grinning at us. “Come see!” he proclaimed before dashing back outside.

After an exchange of glances, there was a great clamor as everyone made for the door.

The sun was setting, and the sky was on fire to the west while twilight had cooled the eastern horizon. The crickets had begun to chirp again, and the grass was the light green of new growth. We walked around the house and found Klaus, Finn, and Mikael at the table in what I’d thought of as the backyard. Lying next to it was the great carcass of a bear, its black fur shining in the last bit of sunlight.

“Well done, brother,” Elijah said, clapping Klaus on the back.

“Did you even get a shot in?” Kol asked as he folded his arms and poked at the bear’s side with his toe. Henrik stepped up to the carcass and mimicked him.

Klaus shot a glare at Kol as pointed as any arrow. “Mine was the killing shot.”

“It’s true,” Finn said, clapping Klaus on the shoulder and smiling. “A hundred yards off. Damn fine shot.”

Mikael, bare arms folded, grunted.

“Yes, Niklaus. Very well done, indeed.” Esther knelt beside the bear and ran a hand over its pelt. She looked up and smiled. “This shall fetch a very fine price.”

“Enough to pay for the Ceremony,” Mikael commented gruffly.

“Then we can begin preparations,” Rebekah said, clapping her hands and grinning over her shoulder at me.

All the rest of the Mikaelson’s attentions settled on me. Cold seeped into my hands despite the perfectly pleasant temperature. My stomach flipped a bit as I stared at the dead bear, its long pink tongue lolling out of its mouth onto the ground. Here it was. Klaus’ prize.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and smiled at him. “Wow,” I said, mustering all the enthusiasm I could. “It’s huge.”

“A bit above average,” Klaus said, chest jutting out just a tad, not at all humble bragging.

Kol snickered. Finn cuffed the back of his head.

I ignored Kol—who was busy sending a sullen glare to Finn, anyway. “How long will it take to get everything ready?”

“I shouldn’t think more than a week,” Esther replied as she stood back up and patted the grass off the front of her skirt.

“Wow,” I repeated, for a lack of anything else to say. “A week. That’s… a whole week.” My brother and sister-in-law’s wedding had taken months of planning. I’d be married in less than a week.

My heart picked up, till I was surprised the rest couldn’t hear it pounding.

Rebekah grabbed my arm and hugged my side. “Is it not exciting!”

“You wed next Friday, then,” Mikael decreed to Klaus as he strode to the bear’s head. “We shall gut and skin the beast in the morning and take it to the village by the afternoon. Esther, you and the girls shall procure what you must.”

“Yes, Mikael,” Esther agreed. She looked around. “Come in and finish dinner. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Klaus and Finn spent the dinner telling how they’d tracked the bear from its den through the woods, and the subsequent shot that had taken it down. Klaus sat up a little straighter at the table that evening, glancing often at Mikael, who merely ate and said little. If this disappointed Klaus, he didn’t show it. He grinned at Henrik’s eager questions before answering all of them.

Later, I laid in bed awake, unable to sleep as the night deepened. I’d be married Friday. Friday! To a fictional character! Though, after all these months, they’d become very real to me—and even distinct from their television counterparts—it still felt like I was going crazy when I remembered I’d first come to know them through a show I used to watch in high school.

Eventually I couldn’t lie with my thoughts anymore. Quietly, I slipped my sneakers back on and snuck from the loft. With a candle in hand I went outside.

The night was chillier than it had been during the day, but not unbearably so. I listened to the crickets for a bit before my feet took me back behind the house, to the large dark mound laying next to the backyard table.

Instead of sitting on the bench, I planted myself next to the bear. It was massive, its chest rising all the way to my head as I sat beside it. I had no idea how they’d managed to haul it out of the woods.

I ran my hand through the fur, noting the stiff, coarse texture. The places where it was matted with dirt and bits of leaves and sticks. I began to try and comb the fur clean, hoping the animal hadn’t suffered too greatly.

My sister-in-law, Megan, and my brother, Allen, had saved up for a year to be able to afford just half of what they’d spent getting married. My parents had chipped in for the reception. I remembered my mother joking to me that she hoped I’d wait at least a few years before thinking about getting married myself, or they’d go broke.

My eyes misted.

Footsteps whispering through the new grass prompted me to swipe at my eyes. I turned and startled at seeing Klaus approaching.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I whispered as soon as he was close enough to hear.

Klaus paused, eyeing the table and its bench before sitting down beside me. His already sharp features were even more angular in the candlelight. His cheeks looked sharp enough to cut glass despite a few days’ worth of stubble. “No.”

I nodded and turned back to the bear, giving it’s pelt a few more strokes. I supposed he hadn’t been able to sleep either.

The thought was oddly comforting.

“Isn’t this forbidden?” I asked.

Klaus’ brows pinched together. “What?”

“Us meeting like this,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “If you had brothers and a father,” he smirked, “I would be terrified.”

Another wave of sadness sprung from a well inside me that would drown me if I let it. “I do have a brother and a father,” I said after a moment, when I was sure my voice wouldn’t waver.

Klaus grimaced. “I apologize. It was a thoughtless comment,” he said, surprising me. Klaus on the show—and during the time I’d spent here—wasn’t big on apologies. He bent his knees up and rested his forearms on them. “Rest assured, your virtue is safe with me.” He gave me a little smile.

Virtue. Right. I clung to the change in topic, glad to shift my thoughts away from what I’d lost. “Yeah, about that.” I took a breath and glanced over, aware this might blow the entire thing out of the water, but it wouldn’t be right to leave it to the last minute. “Virtue being not so virtuous… isn’t a deal breaker, is it?”

Klaus blinked before understanding lifted his features. “Ah.” He shifted his stare to the woods. “I had thought you unwed before.”

“You’re right. I’ve never been married.” His stare returned to me. “It’s… more common where I’m from, I suppose. For unmarried couples to—” I sought a word for sex, but realized the closest I had was, “couple.”

“And your family allowed this?” He wondered.

“I was an adult. They didn’t have a say.” I hadn’t strictly waited until I was eighteen. Like a lot of seventeen-year-olds I’d thought myself in love with my boyfriend of a year at the time—but the complexity of high school and the even more convoluted world of modern dating was a topic I wasn’t about to delve into.

Klaus shook his head. “Your land is very different.” He pursed his lips before returning his stare to me. “As we are promised, and when we are wed, I expect you to take no other to your bed.” He looked out into the night. “That is my only concern. What came before, was before.”

Tension I didn’t realize I’d had in my shoulders and back eased. “Can I expect the same?” I asked, carefully.

Klaus turned to stare into my eyes. “You may.”

Fidelity. That was something I’d always hoped to have in my marriage. I was glad it was something I wouldn’t have to compromise on. Open relationships weren’t for me—I had no idea how people managed the jealousy. And I really didn’t want to deal with any potential STI’s without modern medicine.

But the talk of faithfulness brought up a looming specter in my mind. “About Tatia—”

“We shall not discuss Tatia,” Klaus ordered, voice low and a little scary.

I swallowed. I really thought this ought to be addressed before he committed himself to a relationship with me—however it might turn out to work. “I just—I know you love her—”

“Enough,” he said, short and sharp. His eyes burned as they bored into mine. “What I feel for Tatia—” he stopped and exhaled heavily before his voice sharpened again, “does not matter. I am to be bound to you.” Klaus turned towards the trees. “That is all that shall be said about it.”

My heart sunk. My gaze fell back to the bear as it hit me—I was going to marry a man in love with another woman. My eyes burned again. I tried to blink the tears back, sucking down a breath and ordering myself to toughen up. This wasn’t being done out of love. And, so far as Klaus knew, he was the one giving up a life with the woman he loved to help me. I could buck up and deal with the disillusion of any fairytale dreams I’d had of marriage.

Marriage was supposed to be a partnership. I’d have to focus on that aspect and leave any thoughts of romance aside.

If only my heart would be as pragmatic as my head about it, but the damn thing insisted on hurting.

* * *

The men spent the next morning outside gutting and skinning Klaus’ bear. Having no desire to watch, I stayed inside and scrubbed the tables and benches, checked the straw in the loft bed for bugs, and worked out front washing dishes.

With all the men taking the bear apart, they made surprisingly quick work of it. They left the hide out for another few hours to dry while they packed up the meat and bones. Nothing of the animal would go to waste, everything could be traded, or so Rebekah said.

In fact, to pay for the ceremony, everything would need to be traded.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, a small wagon was loaded with the goods from the bear, a hog was selected from the pen, and we all headed off to the village.

The village seemed emptier now that it was but a normal day. Not that it was empty, but the feasting tables were gone and it was merely a field surrounded by thatched houses. Children ran around, some herding chickens, others playing games with sticks or small stones. Clothes and linens hanging from ropes were beaten by two women with sticks, who had their eye on all the children. Other women were seated on stools, washing clothes using buckets of water from a nearby well.

The blacksmith’s anvil was ringing out as we passed by. I looked over to see the young man from the first festival I’d been to—whose name I thought was Gunnar—attending to the forge’s fire. An older man with even larger arms beat a piece of red-hot metal atop the anvil with a massive hammer. I boggled a bit as sparks flew from the heated metal, wondering at the strength required to shape it with such crude tools.

The man looked up and, seeing Mikael approach, thrust the metal into the water with a great hiss and billow of steam. Leaving the metal in the bucket, he strode over to meet Mikael, holding out a sweaty hand.

Mikael gripped his forearm and the two shook. “Isak.”

“Mikael,” Isak returned in a deep, rumbling voice appropriate for the barrel chest it rose from. He looked over our assemblage and nodded towards Esther. “M’lady.”

“Good day, Isak,” Esther returned.

He looked to Mikael. “What brings your family to the village?”

Mikael motioned and Finn pushed the wagon up beside Mikael. “My boy, Niklaus, managed to bring down a black bear yesterday.”

“Oh,” Isak said, sounding impressed as he looked to Klaus. Klaus smiled slightly. “Good for you, son.”

“Thank you,” Klaus replied, sounding very pleased.

Mikael folded his arms. “We hoped to trade for a new longsword and two binding rings.”

“Binding rings?” Isak grinned. “So the day is to be soon?”

“Friday,” Mikael answered.

“Good tidings, indeed,” Isak replied. His sights then fell to the wagon. “A fine pelt can always be traded. And some tallow would be welcome for the wife.”

“The pelt and fat are yours, then,” Mikael agreed, holding out his arm. Isak gripped it, and the two men exchanged another shake.

“We wish to speak to Ayana for stones,” Esther put in.

“Of course,” Isak replied, nodding towards her as his and Mikael’s arms fell to their sides. “I shall set to work on the sword first. But by my word, all shall be ready by the day.”

“Thank you, Isak,” Esther replied.

He bowed his head before turning. “Gunnar. See to the pelt and the fat.”

“Yes, father,” the younger man replied, stepping back from the forge with a swipe of his hand across his sweaty brow.

Gunnar had no problem lifting the seventy-pound fur and carrying it inside the house. Next he came out for the bear fat that had been wrapped in tanned hides. Rebekah eyed his work all the while, especially his arms. I smirked when I caught her. As her eyes found mine, she blushed.

Esther went to the wagon and collected the bear’s skull and a few bones. “I shall take the girls and trade for the stones.”

“We shall arrange for the goat,” Mikael replied.

Esther led us from the blacksmith’s down the road. We passed several other homes before Esther walked up to the door of a small house. She knocked.

After a moment, a familiar dark-skinned woman opened it. “Esther,” she greeted with a smile.

“Ayana,” Esther replied with her own warm smile.

“Come in, come in,” she invited, opening her door and stepping back.

We stepped into Ayana’s small home. It wasn’t very different the Mikaelson’s, except Ayana’s lacked a loft and instead had a bed of straw and furs pressed against one of the walls. She also had a firepit at the center instead of a small clay hearth. There were more trinkets around—crystals and amulets hanging from the window, and candles splayed across many surfaces.

We walked round the low burning flames to her table. Esther brought up the skull and several bones. “We hoped to trade for stones, Ayana. For my son’s wedding.”

“Ah, yes,” Ayana replied, sights roaming across all of us before settling for a moment on me. “I had heard the news. Congratulations.”

I summoned a smile. “Thank you.”

Ayana took the bones and skull from Esther and took them to a chest pressed against the wall, setting them on top. She crossed to a shelf that must serve a similar purpose to ours, and bent down to retrieve a smaller chest from beneath and a rolled up fur.

She brought the chest and the fur—which looked like rabbit—to the table, unrolling the latter across the top. She then dug in a pouch attached to her belt and pulled out a key. Using it to unlock the chest, she lifted the lid to reveal it was full of many different kinds of stones in varying sizes and shapes. She then slowly spilled all the stones out upon the rabbit pelt of blonde fur.

“The girl may choose,” Ayana replied, turning to me.

Esther’s brows lifted but she nodded easily enough. She turned and indicated with a nod for me to step up. “Come, Ashley.”

I exchanged a look with Rebekah before moving to the pile of stones. I stared down, a little overwhelmed.

“The binding rings are not large,” Esther cautioned, bringing her own hand forward and pointing at a slender ring around her ring finger. A red stone smaller than a pea sat at its center. “Pick a pair of stones of suitable size.” She let her hand fall.

I looked over the array of stones, seeking the smaller sort she had indicated. I was surprised I wasn’t disappointed to find there were no diamonds. Instead, my eyes were drawn to several stones of a startlingly deep blue color in various sizes. Two of which looked to be about right for rings.

I pointed to them. “What about these?”

“Lapis lazuli,” Ayana intoned, eyes on me instead of the stones, an intense look on her face, as if she sought to stare into my soul. “It is said the Ancient Sumerian Goddess of Love, Inanna, entered the Underworld bearing a lapis lazuli necklace to signify her rank and allow her safe passage.” She plucked the two stones from the fur and placed them into my palm. “Some say they grant safe passage still.”

“Goddess of love. That sounds… good.” I wasn’t as sure about the underworld stuff, but at least they were connected to love.

Esther’s brow was furrowed as she looked to the stones in my hand and then Ayana. Questions lingered in her eyes, but whatever they were, they went unvoiced. “Our thanks, Ayana.”

“Of course,” Ayana replied, smiling before she began gathering the remaining stones and placing them back into the chest. “I wish you happiness on your day, but more importantly, for all the days after.”

I returned her smile. “Thank you.”

Once we’d left Ayana’s and met back up with Mikael and the others, san hog, we began going to various houses, offering bear meat or fat for honey mead at one, ale and vegetables at others. “Bear meat is not very highly sought,” Rebekah explained when it was taking longer to offload the meat than the tallow. “We may end up eating the rest ourselves.”

Given the light servings of meat we’d had over the winter, I wasn’t about to object. But in the end, we managed to unload all the meat as well.

When Mikael and Esther went to speak to the _goði_ —which sounded like a priest when I asked what that was—the others then began to scatter to visit various villagers they knew.

Rebekah and I wandered the field, her eyes scanning everyone we passed—I thought for a certain redhead—when I noticed Niklaus across the way at one of the smaller houses. He was speaking to a woman. Tatia.

I’d barely realized the two were together when he cupped her cheek and leaned down, kissing her.

My stomach flipped as something twisted in my chest. I turned my head and there—a few yards away—was Elijah, staring at the spot where Niklaus was kissing Tatia.

Desperate, I turned to Rebekah. “Is there an outhouse?”

“Yes.” She led me away from the view of Niklaus and his sweetheart, across the field to a small building discretely out of the way.

I didn’t actually have to go but went through the motions. A communal outhouse was not a good place to have a silly freak out because one’s fiancé of circumstance wanted a final farewell with his soon to be old flame.

As I stepped out, feeling more revolted than when I went in thanks to the smell, I found Elijah waiting for me instead of Rebekah. My brows rose in surprise. “Where’s Rebekah?”

“I sent her off with Henrik,” he replied. A small smile appeared. “I desired a break.” He held out an arm. “May I?”

I examined Elijah, but if he was upset from what he’d seen earlier, he did a good job of hiding it. “Sure.” I took his arm and he led me away from the foul-smelling building.

I expected to be led back to the field, but instead, he guided me to a small copse of trees behind one of the houses. There, he let my arm fall and sighed as he settled against a trunk. I looked around, taking in the shade beneath the canopy of small oaks, wondering what he’d brought me here for. “I guess you really meant taking a break.”

Elijah smiled lightly before his gaze dropped to his wrist brace. He plucked at the end of it—and the gesture reminded me of his television counterpart, who would fuss with the cuff of his sleeve.

After a moment, his gaze lifted to me. His lips pressed together as his jaw worked. For a moment, I wondered if he was about to bring up Niklaus and Tatia. Instead, another moment passed before he said, “Forgive me for stealing you away. But you seemed—” he paused, eyes narrowing in thought, “overwhelmed.”

So. We were ignoring it. Or maybe he didn’t realize I’d seen?

I wandered to the tree beside his and settled a shoulder up against it. “It’s… a lot. Which is silly.” He quirked a brow in question. “Where I’m from, a wedding takes months to plan.”

Crossing his feet as if to settle in, he hummed. “Normally weddings are held at the end of autumn when there is more food to be had.”

“Really?” At his nod I huh’d. “We have a lot of spring weddings.” I thought for a moment, “And June. Um, Skerpla.”

Elijah’s gaze fell to the ground. “Would it upset you if I said spring weddings are associated with…” he quirked a brow, “babes born but a few months later?”

“Unplanned babies,” I said, amused. “Scandalous.”

“There may be rumors,” Elijah replied, frowning.

I shrugged. “I’m not worried about that.” I picked a leaf from a nearby branch and examined its veins. “The rumors will stop when no babies show up.”

“True.” Elijah watched the leaf twirl between my fingers. “I should not like to hear them, all the same.”

I didn’t feel like repeating my conversation about virtue, or lack of it, with Elijah. “Really, Elijah. It doesn’t bother me,” I said before flicking the leaf away.

Eventually, Elijah nodded. “Very well.” He looked to me, staring, his dark eyes swimming with thoughts. Suddenly, he pushed off the tree and stepped over until he stood before me. “I must confess, I find myself envying my brother.”

“Trust me, Elijah. This wedding stuff is _not_ fun.” Though, maybe he would enjoy trading his own trophy kill when it meant he’d have Tatia’s hand.

But Elijah shook his head. “That Niklaus had the courage to do what I did not haunts me.” His stare became searing. “I wonder, should I have won your boon, would I have found the same daring?”

My mouth dropped into a little ‘o’. I had no idea what to say. I thought Elijah loved Tatia—but now he was saying he wished he’d kissed me? That he wished he’d entered into an engagement to save me?

What was even happening?

“Elijah—I like you, I do,” I said, truthfully. I liked both brothers. I could understand Tatia’s indecision, each was ridiculously handsome, intelligent, and strong. But Klaus _had_ given up his hopes of a future with Tatia to save me. I had to honor that.

I was about to tell Elijah as much when his hands cupped the sides of my face and he closed the distance between us. I froze, surprised, staring as his head dipped and his lips met mine.

I wish I could say I was a good and strong woman and pushed him away—but the gentle press of his lips made me weak. As soon as I kissed him back, he became commanding. Elijah knew what he wanted, and now that he had permission, he was going to take it. I gripped his tunic and held tight as he coaxed my lips apart and deepened the kiss.

When he finished, our foreheads remained pressed together as we basked in our heightened senses, flushed faces, and enflamed blood.

But over the sudden awakening of want came a steady thrum of guilt and worry. Had he done this because of Klaus?

I bit my kiss-swollen lip and released my grip on his tunic. I ran my hands over his shoulders and skimmed down to his chest, before firmly pushing him away.

“Ashley—”

“You’ll have Tatia, Elijah,” I whispered, pushing harder.

A loud silence fell between us. Eventually, Elijah’s hands slipped from my face, fingertips tracing my skin to the last possible moment.

I finally opened my eyes. I tried not to focus on his mouth, but even his eyes—dark with desire—were a dangerous place to rest my gaze. “We do _not_ tell Klaus about this,” I said quietly.

Elijah took a breath and frowned.

“He’s too paranoid to let this go,” I insisted.

Elijah stared into my eyes before giving a single nod. I let out a breath before stepping away, hurrying to leave the privacy of the copse and its temptations.


	9. The Wedding

The day of my wedding dawned without a cloud in the sky. The sun quickly warmed the chill of the evening away. The birds were out and singing to each other as they sought mates. Leaves had unfurled on the trees and the air was clean and brisk.

A perfect spring day.

I felt like vomiting.

Klaus and the other men left almost as soon as the rooster crowed, barely staying for breakfast. Esther and Rebekah practically shood them out the door.

Klaus sent one glance over his shoulder to me before he was whisked away by his brothers.

A wide barrel so short it barely came up to my knees had been brought in the night before. It sat empty in the middle of the room. I eyed it, confused as I wondered why they’d bothered bringing it in.

Its purpose was made clear as Rebekah and Esther began filling it with water, while another pot of water was heated on the fire. Once the hot water was added, Esther tested the temperature before smiling at me and inviting me over.

A bath. An actual bath!

The first flutter of happiness took flight within me as I eagerly stepped over to test the water for myself. It was barely lukewarm, but I didn’t care. I was grinning madly. “For me?”

“Of course.” Esther smiled. “You must be purified before the ceremony.”

I looked to them both, wondering when they’d leave the room. They stared at me in turn.

“Hurry, before the water cools,” Esther said, shooing with her hands.

I realized they intended to stay for the bathing. We’d bathed together in the river, so it wasn’t exactly new—but there’d been more room to spread out. It looked as if they intended to stand right there. Well, just like the locker room in high school, I figured. I undressed and folded my clothes onto the bench before stepping into the bath.

I had an errant wish that it was warmer, but quickly brushed it aside as I crouched down into the barrel and sighed. I had to have my knees up to fit within, but it was so nice to sit in water that wasn’t freezing I hardly cared.

“There were steam baths back in Mikael’s homeland,” Esther told me as she brought several small clay pots over. “But we do not have the luxury,” she apologized before lifting the lid of the pot and adding oil to the water.

An amazing floral scent rose. I sighed and swirled the oils around before Rebekah brought me a bar of soap and a linen rag. “That’s alright. This is amazing enough.”

Esther and Rebekah smiled as I began the task of cleaning myself up. As I reached my hair, Esther waited until I was done to pour another bucket of water over my head to rinse it out.

The water had cooled by the time I finished, and they had a linen wrap that functioned as a towel ready for me as I stood.

From there, it was a simple matter of dressing. There was no special dress for the occasion. It was the same green woolen dress and the linen shift beneath it I’d worn through the week, since Esther had shown me how to sew them. The only difference? As I reached for my panties, Esther said, “Leave them.”

I was no virgin, but my cheeks warmed a bit anyway at the implication. Still, I did as she said.

A moment later, she asked Rebekah to see to the animals. When she was gone, Esther turned to me as I combed out my hair. “I know I did not birth you, but I am glad that after today I shall call you daughter.”

I paused to look over at her, eyes tearing up as Esther smiled gently at me. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

She sat beside me on the bench and met my eyes. “There are things a mother would tell her daughter before her wedding night.”

Seeing where this was going, I said, “Ah.” I glanced aside and cleared my throat before returning to Esther’s gaze. “That’s alright. I’ve already had this talk with my mom. We had it when I hit—” I didn’t know the word for puberty, so I settled for, “when I started to bleed.”

I didn’t think I had to go into my sexual history with my soon-to-be mother-in-law. Far as I was concerned, that could stay between me and Klaus.

Esther’s smile was relieved. “I see.” She took my hand. “But there is more to marriage than lying together.” She squeezed my hand gently. “Should you have questions, know you may always come to me and ask.”

My heart warmed. I couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had dedicated herself to destroying her children on the show. “Thank you, Esther.”

She gave my hand a final squeeze before letting go. “I would offer to braid your hair, but I believe Rebekah is looking forward to it.”

I finished combing out my hair and then we waited until Rebekah returned to do as she liked. Rebekah was excited to braid my hair—a fashion I hadn’t taken to myself even though everyone around me had braided hair.

“I wish the flowers were in bloom,” Rebekah pouted as she wound a braid around my head. “They would have made such a lovely addition.”

“That does sound pretty, but this will be fine,” I replied.

Rebekah clicked her tongue. “Your hair is so short,” she complained.

Of course, she was comparing it to her own, which almost fell to her knees.

“I haven’t cut it since I arrived.” It had grown out considerably past my shoulders.

She hummed as she fixed the braid into place and started on the other side. “Be sure not to. You really must grow it longer, Ashley, to make a proper crown.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said wryly.

When she was done, Rebekah and Esther readied to leave the house.

This was real. It was happening. My stomach did a little flip, and I worried I might be sick. “May I have a moment? Alone?” I asked softly.

They exchanged a glance. Then Esther smiled and set a hand on my shoulder. “Of course. We shall wait outside.”

Once they were out the door, I hurried over to a nearby bucket and, hand to my stomach, breathed through the bout of nausea. Fortunately, I didn’t actually lose my light breakfast before my stomach settled. I groaned, and collapsed on the bench, bringing my hands up to massage my temples.

After a moment, I thought of my phone. I always carried it on me in a pouch, but I hadn’t used it since I realized I’d never be able to charge it again. But—I brought it out and powered it on. Once the menu screen came up, I navigated to my gallery of movies and, thumbing through, found the clip I wanted and tapped.

The view of a ballroom decked out in silver and gold draping popped up. The tinny background music of Journey’s _Don’t Stop Believin’_ played. Seated at the head table, the camera turned to take in the smiling face of my brother, Allen, and his new wife, Megan. She was radiant, strawberry blonde hair and natural makeup having been done by a professional, dressed in a ludicrously expensive wedding gown that seemed to be all lace and beadwork. But it was her smile that really lit up the room. You could see the happiness beaming from her as she stared at my brother—answered with his own joyful smile.

The tinking of a knife on a champaign glass quieted the conversation and the music, and the camera swung a few places over to land on my dad. A microphone was passed to him, and he cleared his throat before speaking.

“I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for coming.” He paused before looking down at my brother and Megan. “And to congratulate my son for finding me another daughter to cherish and love.” The new bride and groom grinned at him. Dad cleared his throat before going on. “You are now newlyweds. You might wonder what that means. Well, you’re family. You have parents and siblings and friends, but most important, you have each other. You must come first to each other now,” he said, looking down at them. “You are a team making a way through this world together, through the good days and the bad. The easy decisions and the hard.”

He shifted a bit on his feet before continuing. “So, be kind to each other. Be patient. Laugh and live and love well. That’s all I wanted to say.” A round of applause went up as Allen and Megan stood up and hugged my dad.

By the time the clip ended, tears were streaming down my face and my throat bobbed repeatedly as I swallowed back any sound. The last thing I wanted was Esther and Rebekah rushing in because I was sobbing. I took a breath and navigated to the image gallery. My most recent pictures were of my friends and I at a party the night before I’d gone jogging—all of us tipsy and smiling as we leaned shoulder to shoulder to fit in the frame, sometimes holding up our cans of beer. In another world, I’d have them all as bridesmaids, laughing and fluttering around me as I readied for my big day.

Going further back, I found pictures of my family. My parents, smiling together during my mother’s birthday party early in June. Allen and Megan had been there too, and there were pictures of them together, looking happy. The last time we were all together, I realized.

The last time we’d ever be together.

My throat closed up. I had to shut the phone off.

Maybe I shouldn’t have looked. Then again, it wasn’t like I was wearing makeup to ruin. Even so, I went to the pitcher of water and splashed some on my face, trying to cool my skin and remove any trace of my tears.

Patting my face dry on the linen wrap, I tucked my phone back into its pouch and stood. Staring at the door, I took several deep breaths.

I could do this.

I _had_ to do this.

I pulled the heavy door open and stepped out into the bright daylight.

I was surprised to see Kol sitting on the table outside, a blade of grass between his teeth. He glanced over as I stepped out and grinned. “’Bout time.”

Esther shot Kol a look that he returned with his typical devil-may-care smirk.

“I thought you would be with Klaus,” I said, surprised to see him there.

“Someone has to make sure you do not run off,” Kol replied.

My eyes rounded as I blinked.

Rebekah huffed. “He jests.”

“Traditionally speaking, I am not,” Kol said, winking at me.

“He is here to ensure our passage is peaceful,” Esther said as she started down the hill.

“Do not worry, Ashley. Father is watching over Klaus,” Kol went on blithely as we all followed after. “If he tries to escape, he shall not get far.”

I grimaced.

Rebekah threaded her arm through mine and hugged me to her side. “Ignore him. Nik would not run.”

“It’s more the idea he’s being forced into this,” I said, stomach sour and roiling once again.

“Nonsense,” Rebekah admonished curtly. “Nik hunted that beast for a month. All that time he could have had a change of heart. He did not.” She sent a kind gaze my way. “All shall be well.”

I thought pride and stubbornness had more to do with it than his heart. Still, Rebekah was right. Klaus had ample time to change his mind and he hadn’t.

If Kol was there to ensure we weren’t attacked, he wasn’t needed. Our walk was peaceful. Just the clear blue sky and green trees rustling in a pleasant breeze. Rebekah and Kol kept up the chatter. I would say something here and there but was mostly too anxious to join in. My mind fixated on what was coming—no one appeared bothered by the fact I was quiet, though.

It seemed to take no time at all to reach the village. As we passed the outer ring of houses, I was surprised and suddenly anxious to see the field was filled with people as if this were a festival. Perhaps not _quite_ so many villagers were in attendance, but it was a very near thing. Considering I had no idea who any of them were, I was surprised to see so many guests.

“So many people,” I said, having to speak over the noise.

“Oh, weddings always bring out the whole village,” Rebekah replied.

“Any excuse to beg off work to feast and drink,” Kol added with a smirk.

“Great,” I said, fighting the urge to vomit.

A few congratulatory cheers and well wishes were shouted at me as we passed groups of people. I supposed they must have recognized Esther, if not Kol or Rebekah. I forced a smile and said my thanks as I was escorted to the great white oak at the center of the field.

At the tree stood an older bald man I’d never seen before, stooped slightly in his long brown robe as he held a goat on a short rope. Beside him was the rest of the Mikaelsons. Klaus stood closest to the man in the robes—who had to be the priest, or what passed as one in their religion.

Like me, Klaus was dressed in his usual tunic, though he had obviously bathed and had his hair fixed in more elaborate braids. Despite the fact he looked much the same as he had every day, I was struck by how handsome he was. He wasn’t in a tux, but he stood tall—somehow looking regal despite being dressed in a simple blue knee-length tunic and linen breeches.

Struggling to keep my breathing even as I realized this was really happening, Kol stepped ahead of us and drew his sword.

No, not his sword. The one we’d had commissioned at the blacksmith.

As we stepped up to join the small gathering, I heard more people move up behind us until a crowd had gathered. I felt all the eyes upon us and my stomach flipped.

Rebekah let go of my arm before she and Esther moved to the other side of the priest—just like a normal ceremony, I thought. This, at least, was familiar.

Kol led me up to the priest, the goat, and Klaus. When we were within arm’s reach, he turned and, setting the end of the sword on his other hand, held it out to me. Esther had explained that I would present the new sword to Klaus to signify that he would take up my protection. I stepped forward and gingerly grabbed the handle, steeling my arm to pick up the heavy blade.

Kol winked before stepping around me to stand between Elijah and Henrik.

Carefully holding the new sword, I approached Klaus. I don’t know that anyone has ever watched me so intensely as he did then. My ears were buzzing a bit and my head swam as I stopped before the priest, across from Klaus. I made sure to keep my knees bent like I’d learned in middle school choir, which I’d been told would stop me from fainting. I let the sword’s point fall towards the ground, though I held it just above. I didn’t want to dirty the tip.

“Welcome family and friends to this most sacred rite,” the priest intoned, loudly enough for his voice to carry and pierce the white noise in my ears. “A union of man and woman before the gods.” The priest went on, speaking about the marriage of Odin and Frigga.

The goat bleated. Knowing its fate, I tried very hard not to look at it. Instead, I concentrated on Klaus. He stared back. I wondered if he felt even a fraction of the nervousness I did, or if his viking roots made him braver.

The sound of a dagger being drawn threatened to pull my sights away. Instead, I studied the contours of his face. I let my eyes trace his narrow brows to his nose which led like an arrow to his mouth and its plush lips. The goat beside me bleated in fear before a horrible wet whistle and gurgle sounded. I swallowed back bile and tried to decide the precise color of his eyes as the goat’s death throes thumped against the ground and disturbed the air beside me. A deep blue with hints of gray. Eyes like a storm, which was fitting, given his people’s adoration of a thunder god.

I gripped the sword’s handle tighter.

I blinked when drops of blood rained on my face, neck, and dress. And then the bundle of bloody fir-twigs was flicked at Klaus in the shape of a T for Thor’s hammer and the blood spattered onto him. He bore it stoically, stare fixed resolutely on me.

According to Esther, this would call the attention of Thor himself to bless our union. I pictured Chris Hemsworth every time they talked of the god. In my head I had the strangest image of Marvel’s Thor looking down on us from the rainbow bridge, wondering why they’d killed a perfectly nice goat. Thanks to my nerves, the thought nearly made me giggle. I had to work to keep my lips from twitching upwards.

“And now,” the priest intoned as the fir-twigs were set aside and the body of the goat was taken away by his apprentice, “the gifting of the ancestral sword.”

Klaus drew his sword and—holding it with both hands—extended the blade to me.

This would be the sword I’d give our first-born son. Holding the new blade with one hand, I accepted Klaus’ sword with the other.

“The gift of the bride’s sword,” the priest instructed.

Since my right hand had Klaus’ old sword in a clammy grip, I had to simply hold the new sword out to him with my left, instead of presenting it all fancy. With a small smile, he accepted the new blade.

The priest then asked for the rings to be given. Mikael stepped forward and handed Klaus a ring while Esther presented the other to me.

The priest nodded to Klaus, who took the single step closer. He carefully placed my ring onto the hilt of his new sword before extending it towards me. I picked it up and, with a bit of nervous juggling because I had my hands full, slipped the ring onto my right ring finger.

The priest then nodded to me and it was my turn to put Klaus’ ring onto the ancestral sword’s hilt and hold it out for him to take. Klaus accepted it and had an easier time sliding it onto his finger.

“With these rings, you are bound to one another,” the priest proclaimed. “As the circle is unbroken, so too shall your vows be unbroken. And should the vow you make be broken, so shall the sword find you.”

I swallowed. Norsemen didn’t play around with their vows.

“Now, join hands upon the hilt.”

There was a moment’s awkwardness as we had to take each other’s hands and hold both the swords at the same time. And then the priest led us into the vows.

“May Odin grant us wisdom on our way to come.  
May Thor bless this union with strength and courage.  
May Loki never deny us laughter.  
May Sigyn keep us ever faithful.”

Klaus and I dutifully recited each line before the priest went on to the next. My voice was substantially softer than Klaus’ sure intonation. I wondered how he was able to keep so calm while I was a nervous wreck.

When we were finished, the priest lifted his hands to the sky and invoked Odin and the other gods to bless our new union.

And then, he lowered his hands and proclaimed, “Before all the gods, from now to Ragnarök, go forth as one.”

A great cheer went up from the assemblage. I took a breath, blinking a few times as I realized that was it.

I was married.

I was a Mikaelson.

* * *

The feasting went on throughout the day and into the night. And through it all, I sat with a hammer in my lap.

When I say hammer, I don’t mean the kind my dad had in a drawer to pick up and hit a nail into a wall. I mean the heavy, bulky sort the blacksmith used. Except this hammer hadn’t ever actually been used to fashion anything. Instead, it was a ceremonial hammer, an earthly representation of Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir. It was an old thing, dating back at least a few centuries, engraved with the swirling patterns familiar to Nordic artwork.

It was also heavy and awkward.

But it was tradition, believed to increase my fertility. I had no choice but to keep the thing on my lap as I shared a cup of honey mead with Klaus and ate the goat whose throat had been slit right before me.

Klaus sat to my right while Rebekah sat on my left. The musicians played and the village ate and danced. The gifts were food and ale, brought to the feast. That way, everyone pitched in to feed the village—which was a good thing, because there was no way we’d collected enough.

People I didn’t know came up to congratulate us, but mostly they spoke to Klaus and Mikael. Klaus was gracious as he thanked everyone. The only tense moment was when Tatia approached to wish us well. Seated right next to Klaus, I could feel him stiffen in place. After a moment of quiet, he was as smooth as ever as he accepted her well wishes—even if his eyes were a little brighter than normal.

After night fell and the feasting continued, I began to feel more than a little tipsy. The honey mead was as sweet as its name implied, and it felt like forever since I’d had anything sweet. But it was stronger than the ale I’d grown used to, and it didn’t help that they kept the cup full. Worried I’d be too drunk for what was to come, I cut myself off.

It was a good thing I’d done so. Less than an hour later, Klaus decided it was time for us to retire. I wondered at the early hour he’d chosen, it couldn’t be later than eight, but I was also grateful I got to remove the hammer.

I still wasn’t quite ready for what happened next.

Torches were lit, Mikael and Esther rose, and then several other men and women came up to the table. Rebekah gave me a brief goodbye and a hug, and then the women whisked me to the center of the group. Klaus was similarly swept into a group of men, and off we went.

The reason for leaving early became clear as we stepped onto the road that led out of the village, and then continued on. We would be returning to the house.

Our entourage wasn’t quiet.

I heard the most ribald humor I’d ever been subjected to in my life. Drunk women of all ages ribbing each other and laughing about men and their sexual performance—or lack thereof. I could hear the men ahead of us laughing as they tortured Klaus with their own bawdy version of peasant humor.

I could only imagine what this would have been like had I been a virgin. I pitied any poor village girl who’d be subjected to it, having little idea of sex. Then again, I doubt they’d have so far to walk and listen to filthy stories and jokes.

I was never more thankful to see the house on the hill. Maybe distraction was the point.

My modern sensibilities were further subjected to horror as several people trooped into the house with us—Mikael and Esther not among them. I had no idea who the eight people were that crowded us into the place I’d come to think of as my home away from home.

And that was before the women started tugging off my dress.

I was stunned and wished I had drunk more as my woolen dress was pulled up and over my head by laughing women I’d never met before. Suddenly, I wished I’d asked Esther more about what, exactly, the wedding night consisted of. Was I supposed to have sex while these strangers looked on? I was torn between an urge to vomit and a desperate desire to run.

The men and women pushed a mostly naked but for his underpants Klaus and I, in my linen shift, towards a simple bed that had been set up in the center of the room. It was little more than a wooden box filled with straw and furs. I shuddered as I was pressed onto the furs first, heart racing with terror as I stared at the group of grinning, mocking strangers.

Klaus looked a hundred percent done with all of it as he was shoved down beside me. It was the look he usually wore right before he started murdering people on the show.

After a few more filthy suggestions were made to Klaus and I, I was almost lightheaded with relief and gratitude when the group then paraded back out of the house, laughing.

The door shut. I could still hear them sharing even more ribald jokes as they walked away from the house.

“Gods,” Klaus muttered, glaring at the door.

“They won’t come back, will they?” I asked, terrified at the thought.

Klaus shook his head. “No.” His brows fell together as he turned to me. “Did mother not explain—”

“I thought she wanted to tell me about sex. Not—whatever that was.” At least I now knew the word for sex, so that was something. I also knew the Norse words for various acts of it, genitalia, and euphemisms.

Klaus grimaced in sympathy. “Father warned me what was to come.” He sighed and laid back. “He did not do it justice.”

Well, I was in the least romantic mood of my life. Quiet descended, broken only by the soft crackle of flames in the hearth. Someone must have arrived ahead of time to light it. “When will the others—”

“Not for a few hours.” Klaus stared up at the thatched roof.

Time enough, I supposed. Which explained why we left the feast so early, compared to the other festivals we’d been to.

I took a deep breath. I was no blushing virgin, but I had never been a bride. This was to be my first night in my marriage bed. I had to put aside the awful start to the evening and forge ahead. Try to make a good first impression, as it were.

Still, I hadn’t felt this much performance anxiety since my first time.

I looked down at Klaus. Let my eyes have their fill of his handsome face and the well-formed chest that led to a set of firm abs. His hair was spread out around his head, a wavy, dark blonde halo.

This was my husband.

I swallowed as my heart sped up a little at the thought and the pleasant warmth of the house seemed to chase away the dread chill of earlier.

I summoned my courage and put a hand on his arm, let myself feel the strong muscle that lay beneath his soft skin.

Klaus’ eyes darted to my hand as it rested on his arm before taking a leisurely path up my chest to my face. His abs rippled as he sat up, chest and biceps flexing as he shifted to face me.

“I shall understand if you do not wish to lay with me this night,” Klaus said. “Your hand was forced by circumstance, and I would not compel—”

His consideration granted me the final bit of bravery I needed. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his to quiet him. Klaus made a noise of surprise before his head tilted slightly so that our noses fit snug together.

The kiss was different from the only other we’d shared. It was softer, a gentle exploration. Although, like that first boon, Klaus’ hand rose to glide into my hair and hold my head. But his lips were not so demanding. Instead, they were welcoming and curious. We spent a few wonderful, unhurried minutes in our first mutual attempt to learn something of the other before finally breaking apart.

“I’m not forcing _you_ , am I?” I asked softly between breaths.

Lids heavy as he stared with eyes so dark with desire, the blue within were the thinnest of rings, Klaus’ lips curled into a smirk as he huffed a breath. “No, my lady.” His mouth tilted back towards mine, and his next words were breathed against my swollen lips. “I am quite willing to perform my marital duty.”

My body had shaken off the last of the drink and was fully awake, my awareness focused solely on his presence. My blood was warm and alive. I smelled nothing but Klaus and a blend of spicy oils his own bath must have held. I tasted the honey mead still on our tongues. “Sweet talker,” I murmured.

His arm wound around my back and pressed me against his chest. “Enough talk,” he demanded, voice deep and rough.

“But Niklaus,” I implored before nipping his ear. His breath hitched. “I’m not done yet.”

And in English, I told him all the things I was about to do to him.

He had no complaints.


	10. The Beginning of the End

He watched me.

Had he always watched me? I couldn’t remember. Had I been too wrapped up in my own problems to notice him notice me?

I watched him.

His eyes brightened when he spoke of adventures to Henrik. His lips curled when Kol made some witty remark. Fondness softened his features as he regarded Rebekah. He listened with respect whenever Elijah spoke. He grew peaceful as he shared silence with Finn. A gentleness took him when he turned to his mother. And desperation tightened his features as he looked to his father.

He felt so much and wore it all on his sleeve.

It was the first thing I realized I loved about him.

I served Klaus his meals instead of Esther. It was a small change but given she must have set down his soups and porridges and meats since he was a boy, it felt important. He was now mine to take care of. He would smile up at me—a gleam in his eyes that told of heated touches and eager whispers—and thank me.

Many things were different from what I’d expected of being a newlywed, but one thing that was not was a desperate want. That transcended culture and time for us. He desired me as much as I desired him. I knew lust alone wouldn’t make for a stable, long-term relationship, but it was something. I was grateful we had this pillar, at least, to build from.

Perhaps it was the fact we were so often denied the slaking of our new lust that made it so potent. Klaus tried to convince me it was fine to be together in the loft, that his parents had done the same, and nothing was wrong about it now that we were wed—but I couldn’t get over my mortification at the idea of sharing something so private with his siblings and parents sleeping next to us. So we would steal away into the woods and lay on a bed of moss and furs to do what we could to curb the constant cravings.

“Come autumn, when the harvest is done, I shall build us a house,” Klaus said to me one late afternoon in the woods, as I laid on his naked chest, cheek to his shoulder. “And we shall have a proper bed.”

I grinned up at him, through the lock of my hair he had twirled around his finger. “I’ve never had my own house.”

“Prepare yourself,” he warned, eyes shining mischievously as he let my hair spring free. “There is much to know about running a household, my lady.”

“I’ll have to spend all my days and nights learning then.” I twisted around until our bodies pressed together, my forearms folded over his chest. “No time for running away with my lover.”

Klaus wrapped his arms around me and gave a playful scowl. “Let the house go to ruin.”

“No,” I said as if considering it, pushing myself up and making to leave, “I think I’ll start learning now—” I laughed as Klaus sprang up and caught me, pulling me back down before I could reach my clothes.

He dedicated the rest of the afternoon to convincing me to leave a bit of time for our woodland excursions. He was very persuasive.

* * *

Everything was different, and yet, few things were different. My days were filled with the same chores. At night I struggled to sleep, even if now it was within the circle of Klaus’ arms. I served the ale and water, scrubbed the table, the clothes, the dishes, and learned the other skills of running a house from Esther.

We had been married for a month when we returned to the village for a trading day. There were items to be sought for the larder. Being a Saturday, the family was free to come along.

Esther and Mikael went to see to business. Kol quickly disappeared, followed soon after by Finn. Henrik wanted to play with some of the village children. Klaus and Elijah went to speak with an acquaintance.

To my surprise, Rebekah remained with me as I watched over Henrik. “I’m surprised you don’t want to look for Corey.”

Rebekah frowned. “Why should I make the effort when he makes none to see me?”

Henrik and two other boys were playing some game with rocks they had found and collected. I had no idea how it worked. “You sure?”

Rebekah sighed as she dragged the toe of her shoe through the dirt. “Let Henrik play.”

I frowned, trying to think of something to say to console her, when the distant din of steel meeting steel rang out. We peered in the direction of the noise, only to find two familiar figures wielding swords against each other.

“What in the world?” I wondered, staring at Klaus and Elijah crossing blades.

Rebekah smiled. “Come on Henrik, Ashley,” she said as she began to race towards the field.

Henrik climbed to his feet and we ran after.

Klaus and Elijah were swinging and blocking their blades to ringing clangs. After Klaus pushed Elijah’s latest attack off, the two separated to circle each other. Elijah was the first to notice our presence. His gaze took us in as he stepped around Klaus. “Look, sisters arrived with your bride.” His lips curled as he looked back to Klaus. “To watch my fast-approaching victory.”

The icy touch of foreboding ran its fingers down my spine. I had heard Elijah say those words before—but I had never heard Elijah say those words before.

The show. I must have seen it on the show.

“On the contrary, Elijah,” Klaus retorted, lifting his new sword and pointing at Elijah. He took a breath and drew his arm back for a swing Elijah blocked. The edges of their swords sang as they slid together in a great circle before the two parted. Elijah brought his blade downward, and Klaus caught it with his before pushing Elijah off. Klaus swung again, Elijah blocked and then angled his sword for Klaus’ chest, which Klaus forced to the side.

But Rebekah, Henrik and I weren’t the only ones whose attention had been caught by the brothers’ duel. Across the way, I saw Esther and Mikael strolling up to watch themselves.

The dread began to spread, until the ice had frozen my blood.

Elijah continued to press Klaus with a thrust of his blade through Klaus’ cross guard. Klaus spun, pushing Elijah’s hand away, and crouched down—drawing the tip of his blade so close to Elijah’s belly, it sliced his belt. The belt split apart and fell to the ground. Elijah, mouth open, looked down and saw it lying in the dirt.

Klaus, still crouched, blade extended, declared, “They’ve come to laugh at you.” He grinned.

Elijah seemed stunned as he continued staring down at his now beltless waist, though the corners of his mouth began to lift.

Rebekah and Henrik shared a laugh.

But horror took my sight beyond, to Mikael. His jaw was locked, his eyes burning, his hand jostling restlessly at his side as if it longed to hold a belt. Esther spoke to him, and I was too far to hear, but I knew nevertheless what she said. _Relax, Mikael. Niklaus means well._

And Mikael’s response. _That is precisely my problem._

Elijah and Klaus seemed to sense the turn in the atmosphere as Klaus stood back up, his grin falling.

Mikael strode forward. Klaus glanced down, then to his mother. Esther turned her head aside. Klaus continued to look to her as Mikael stepped beside Elijah and reached out for his sword. Elijah lifted it and handed it over, face carefully wiped of expression.

“So!” Mikael took another few steps towards us before turning and, as Elijah stepped aside, looking to Klaus. Klaus moved around to face his father. The serious cast of his face said he had an inkling of what was to come. “Why don’t you teach me that trick, young warrior?”

And Mikael swung.

Klaus grunted as he brought his blade up to guard, the tip of Mikael’s sword nearly swiping his cheek. It would have if Klaus had not leaned back.

I was moving before I was conscious of it, only to be stopped by Rebekah’s strong hold. My head whipped towards her, but with anxious eyes, she shook her head.

“Father,” Klaus implored, his words coming quick, “we were just—” he paused, “having fun.”

Mikael moved closer as Klaus stepped around. “We fight for our survival,” his face transformed into a furious scowl as his voice rose, “and you find time for fun?! I want to have fun! Teach me!” he demanded. “Come on!”

“Father, it was nothing,” Klaus insisted quietly.

But Mikael roared and swung again at Klaus, who grit his teeth as he blocked. Mikael swung again only to be blocked. But his next swing was so mighty, Klaus lost his sword as it sailed off to the side.

Mikael yelled as he kicked at the back of Klaus’ knee. Klaus let out a cry as he fell back to the ground.

Rebekah held me back with both arms.

Mikael roared again as he knelt and raised his sword in a death blow, pausing just before the tip could pierce Klaus’ throat.

Mikael glared down at Klaus. “You are foolish and impulsive, my boy.” Mikael leaned further over him. “What?! No more laughter?!” he shouted.

“Stop!” I cried.

“You’ve made your point, Mikael,” Esther insisted.

Mikael let out a final roar as he drove the sword into the dirt.

Right next to Klaus’ head.

Klaus opened his eyes wide to look up at Mikael.

“Some days it’s a miracle your still alive,” Mikael said quietly. His lip curled before he added a finale, “ _Boy_.”

Seeing Mikael stand and move away from Klaus, Rebekah finally let me go. I reached Klaus’ side just as his head fell back against the dirt as he sighed, looking as if he’d just stared death in the face.

Mikael strode back to Esther.

I moved to help Klaus up, but he brushed my hands aside and sat up himself. His jaw worked furiously as he watched Mikael and his mother walk away.

Elijah came to retrieve his blade and extended a hand to Klaus, but Klaus eschewed it too as he pushed himself to his feet. He walked with stiff steps to his sword, picking it up from the ground and sheathing it at his side. Without a word he marched away. I leapt up to my feet to follow.

Klaus hurried out of the village with long strides. I had to pick up my skirts to follow. “Klaus,” I called.

He ignored me. The thatched houses disappeared behind us. Soon, it was just the two of us on the path, the woods to one side and newly planted fields with their small shoots of growth in the other. “Klaus!” I insisted.

“I cannot please him!” The words burst from him, an explosion of fury that was fueled by an underlining desperation.

When Klaus’ temper appeared, he became the man I recognized from my television screen. It always took me slightly aback given how rare it was, thanks to Esther’s amulet. But I’d also grown to know him in the most intimate way possible. It gave me courage to approach him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Klaus stared at me, his brief bout of temper transforming into a heartbreaking sorrow that shone out of eyes shining with unshed tears. “I do not understand why he hates me so.”

My heart clenched painfully. I crossed the final distance between us and took his face in my hands. “It’s not you. It’s him. He’s a cruel man.”

Klaus’ hands came up to press against mine before he pulled them away and started back for the house.

He didn’t speak the rest of the afternoon. When we reached the house, he stayed outside, chopping firewood and tending to the hogs. I started lunch, cursing out Mikael in my head the whole time.

The sooner Klaus was out from under his thumb, the better.

* * *

In retrospect, I should have worried less about Mikael, and more about the fact another scene from the show had played out before me. But the show seemed like such a distant thing and life demanded my attention.

Klaus—desperate to prove himself to his father—was disappointed when my period came a week later. I was relieved but knew better than to say as much. I had settled into my role as wife, but mother—I still felt it was too soon for that. But I also knew I had to prepare myself, because unless I had an undiagnosed issue, the day was coming. Mostly, I was just glad I’d been given a brief reprieve.

That latest concern was what occupied my mind as we spent another night in the caves.

Emerging in the morning with the rest of the family, we were lingering in the village while Mikael spoke with several of the men, when the normal life I’d carved for myself came crashing down with a panicked call of, “MOTHER!”

At first, I didn’t realize the cry had been directed at Esther. I hadn’t even recognized the voice as Kol’s. Kol was the snarky, smooth talking one of the family. He was not a terrified, frantic boy yelling for his mom.

But it was Kol, carrying a body in his arms and screaming for Esther.

The others hurried over as Kol collapsed to the ground, laying the bloody, broken boy in his arms down. Ayana came running out of her house after Rebekah. Elijah rushed around, only to come to a startled halt behind Kol. Klaus sprinted away from me and, like Elijah, was stunned into stillness as he reached his little brother.

Esther was denying what her eyes showed her even as she rushed up and fell to her knees at Henrik’s head, cradling it to her lap.

At some point, my feet had carried me closer. Close enough to hear Esther ask, “What happened?”

“The wolves,” Kol answered, still frantic. “Please mother! Save him!”

Esther was frantic, her breath coming fast and near hyperventilation, as Ayana knelt beside them. She gripped Ayana’s sleeve. “Please, there must be a way.”

Ayana laid a hand on Henrik’s head, her eyes drifting shut.

I was the only one not waiting for her to speak again. I knew what she would say.

“The spirits will not give us a way, Esther,” she told her, hand falling away. Esther stared at her, as if she couldn’t process what Ayana was saying. Ayana met those desperate eyes and gently said, “Your boy is gone.”

Esther denied it, but slowly buckled over onto Henrik and wailed. Elijah knelt behind her, looking lost as he set a hand on her back. Rebekah ran a hand through Kol’s hair as he hid his face. Very soon she was crying. Klaus stood, stunned, silent tears running down his face as he stared down at the body of his little brother.

A numbness stole over me. It was only a corner of my mind, detached and logical, that directed me to cross over to Klaus and wrap my arms around him. After a moment, his arms came around me as he buried his head into my hair and cried. Eventually Klaus lost his ability to stand, and unable to hold him up, we drifted to the cold dirt.

I think I was in shock. I wasn’t quite processing everything that was happening. It was as if I were separate within my own mind, staring out of someone else’s eyes, as the family went to pieces.

How? I had made Klaus promise—and he’d been as good as his word.

But I should have warned Henrik, instead. Of course he’d go to someone else if his request to sneak out was denied by Klaus. To the more daring, devil-may-care brother.

When Mikael arrived—at first all he’d done was stare at Henrik’s body. When he finally moved it was to lift Esther up and away from Henrik. She fought him, struggling to hold onto her baby boy, but was no match for Mikael’s strength. He handed her to a stunned Finn, who held up his mother as she crumpled against him. Mikael then bent down and picked up Henrik. Without looking to anyone else, he started off back towards the house.

Eventually we managed to get Kol to his feet and, with Esther leaning on Finn, made a bleak procession out of the village.

* * *

One of the grimmer tasks of medieval life was dealing with a body. Unlike in modern times, when the body of a loved one would be taken to a funeral home and prepared by a professional, preparations had to be done by the traumatized family. It was a task left to the women.

We laid Henrik on the table and undressed him. Rebekah couldn’t stop crying as she helped her mother wipe the blood from his skin. Esther’s red eyes held a faraway stare—as if she were too haunted to be entirely present. Yet, at times, she would look down lovingly on Henrik’s face and pause to kiss his forehead.

Even after so many months, I was not good with the grislier work of cleaning animals, but I could not leave the task of sewing his wounds up to his mother and sister in good conscience. They were—bad. Thankfully, whatever numbness that had stolen over me since Henrik’s death allowed me to take the needle and the thread and stitch him back together.

While I took care of his flesh, Rebekah sewed his clothes. After scrubbing out the blood, we redressed him.

He did not look like he was sleeping. He was too still, his skin waxy and tinted yellow. But he was not so hard to look upon now that the wounds were closed and the blood washed away.

While we had cleaned Henrik, the men prepared his pyre. I supposed Henrik was not old enough for the traditional Viking funeral—one of the few things I’d known about them before finding myself living amongst them. When we were done preparing him, Mikael came back in and picked him up. I was struck by how small Henrik was in his father’s arms and nearly broke down. I would have, if Mikael were not Mikael—he was not a man you showed weakness around. Not even after the death of his youngest.

He carried him to the pyre and laid him on top. Rebekah and Finn held up Esther as Mikael lit the logs. We stood around and watched as the fire climbed the makeshift bed. By the time the flames reached Henrik, they were tall and bright, sparing us from too clear of a view of his little body burning.

The fire burned all night.


	11. Madness

A little light had gone out of our lives. Without it the darkness crowded in. Hardly anyone talked in the house, and when they did, it was only what needed to be said. There was no laughter. No stories. No teasing.

Esther was on autopilot, going through the motions but saying nothing, her eyes vacant. Rebekah and I worked twice as hard to try and make life easier on her. Well, that, and to distract ourselves. In this world, work was the only distraction.

Mikael and Finn left earlier than ever, and barely made it back before twilight. Finn was exhausted, but Mikael—he was like a man possessed. He brought back more game than ever before. The family was flush with meat and pelts. It was as if he were determined to hunt down every animal in the woods.

But we all knew what he _really_ wanted to hunt.

Kol was so unlike himself, I worried most for him after Esther. His stare was haunted. One night, less than two days after Henrik’s death, Kol had knocked over a cup reaching for some bread. Mikael had snapped—pulling Kol out of his seat and viciously beating him in the middle of the room. Kol did nothing to defend himself. He let Mikael’s punches rain down on him, until Elijah and Finn pulled their father off, afraid Mikael might beat Kol to death.

Kol refused any treatment and had taken off for two days. After the first day, his brothers had searched the woods for him, all of us afraid they might find him dead after all. They came back empty handed. We were on tenterhooks until Kol walked back in later that evening, horribly bruised and dead-eyed. He sat down for supper and said nothing of where he’d been.

The family was hurting so badly, sometimes it was hard to breathe within the walls of the house.

A little after a week, Klaus met me at the hog pen and nodded his head towards the woods. As he made for the trees, I followed, wondering how to refuse him. I wasn’t in the mood, but I still shadowed him to our spot. A little patch of thick moss laying at the base of a great oak, our furs rolled up and waiting.

“Klaus, I’m not—”

“I wish to talk.” Klaus strode to the tree and, arms crossed, leaned against it. He stared at the ground.

My shoulders relaxed as I stepped up beside him. “About… Henrik?”

Klaus’ eyes narrowed as his brows slowly lowered. “Yes.” The rustle of leaves and a distant blue jay’s whistle filled the following silence. Finally, he looked up and met my concerned gaze. “I cannot stop thinking about it.”

“I know.” I laid a hand on his arm. “I keep expecting him to walk in with you and the others for supper.”

“Not that,” Klaus whispered. His voice strengthened as his stare intensified. “Months ago. That day in the caverns. When I carved our names upon the wall. You asked for a vow from me.”

My hand fell away as the blood in my veins turned to ice. Mouth suddenly dry, I stared back, trapped within the storm of his eyes.

“Since the night we burned his body I have wondered—why ask that of me, Ashley?” he asked softly. When I stayed silent, Klaus pushed off the tree and took a step closer, eyes intensifying. “Why ask me not to do the very thing that led to Henrik’s demise?”

His hands rose and he took either side of my face into his grasp. “Did you know?”

My heart hammered within my chest, so strong it was a wonder it did not smash through my ribs. My stomach twisted into knots as the cold spread to my fingers. My thoughts raced—what should I say? What could I say?

I rasped out a tortured, wobbling, “Yes.”

Klaus’ eyes were fever bright. “How?”

I tried to shake my head, but he held firm. He stepped closer, forcing me backwards, until my back hit the tree.

“How?!” His eyes were wide and fearsome. “Tell me!”

Tears spilled over my lashes. “You won’t believe me.”

Klaus’ stare searched mine, as if he might pluck the truth from my thoughts. “Ashley,” he said, soft and quiet. His brows furrowed together as his gaze turned tortured. “Tell me my wife did not let my brother die!”

“No!” I sobbed, crying like I hadn’t been able to cry all week. The fear and guilt that the numbness had buried now rose within like a tsunami, threatening to pull me under. “No! I loved Henrik! I thought he’d be safe! I thought it was over!”

“Then tell me!” he shouted, his own eyes overflowing with tears. “How did you know he would come to me seeking to leave the caverns?!”

“I saw it!”

My cry echoed through the forest. Klaus watched me as tears shone down his cheeks. His hands fell to my shoulders and squeezed. “You saw it.”

“Yes.”

Klaus’ brows tightened together. “You are a seer?”

“No.”

“Ashley, I do not understand.” He took my face in his hands again, his thumbs swiping through the trail of my tears down my cheeks. “Help me to understand, love.”

I jolted as if electrocuted. His soft endearment—it was the first time he’d ever said such a thing to me. I gripped his tunic, a hand over his heart. “I’m not from here.”

Klaus’ mouth dipped in frustration. “Yes. I know.”

“No,” I shook my head. “You don’t understand just how far away I’m from, Klaus.” I let go of his tunic and reached into my pouch and pulled out my phone. He gave the device a curious look that turned to fear as I powered it on.

His body stiffened as if he wished to move away, but true to his heritage, bravely stayed where he was. “What is it?”

“It’s called a _phone_ ,” I told him, using the English word since there was no Norse equivalent.

“Phone,” he repeated uncertainly.

“It’s not a weapon,” I assured him. “We—my people—use it to talk to each other over great distances, among other things. Too many things, really.” I selected the video gallery and picked the first clip in it. “Like, it can remember what it sees and hears.”

I tapped play and turned the screen towards him.

Klaus startled and took a step back as a group of excited partygoers cheered. My best friend, Chloe, was chugging down a beer from her perch on a table, surrounded by empty solo cups and cans. It had been Chloe’s birthday party—a handful of us were too young to drink, me included—but it had been a fun night, all the same.

When Chloe had downed the whole can and lifted her hands in triumph, to an approving shout of the crowd, I’d turned the camera back to me to yell, “Happy twenty-one!” I had a silver party hat on my head, which had become crooked at some point in the night.

Julie, another friend, slung an arm over my shoulders and leaned in to holler, “Happy birthday, girl!” And together we added, “Love you!”

Drunk, we found the whole thing hilarious and started laughing as the clip shut off. I’d sent it to Chloe right after.

Klaus stared, eyes wide with awe. “What magic is this?”

“Not magic. It’s…” I made a frustrated noise. “You don’t have a word for it in your tongue. We call it _science_.” I struggled to think of a way to explain. “Look.” I tapped the back with my fingernail. “It’s made of metal. Like… like a plow or a sword. And glass. You just don’t know how to make them.” I stared at him. “ _Yet_. One day, you will.”

“One day?” His brows were nearly one they were pressed so closely together.

“In the—tomorrow,” I said, lacking their word for future. “Many, many tomorrows. Years.” I handed my phone to him. Klaus took in gingerly in hand, still looking confused as he tilted it this way and that. “Like, did your people always know how to make a… a sword? Just as it is now? Or your bows?”

“We have long made swords and bows,” Klaus replied carefully as he pushed a finger against the screen, mimicking what he’d seen me do. He startled as one of my freemium games began to load.

“Yeah, but weren’t they _different_ swords and bows? Less powerful?”

A little bit of understanding eased his brows a touch higher. “Yes.”

“It’s the same idea,” I said, relieved as he seemed to get my point.

The cheerful tune blasted from the speaker as a little cartoon girl welcomed him to Candy Bash. Klaus’ brows furrowed again as he stared down at the screen. “Is it really?” he asked, a touch of sarcasm coloring his words.

“Basically,” I replied sheepishly.

After a moment he peered at me. “Why do you not use this… phone?”

How to explain battery life? I sighed. “It’s not easy to explain in your tongue. It has a limited life unless you give it more.” Klaus’ brows furrowed again. “I don’t have the ability to do that here. So I’ve kept it—sleeping.” I frowned at the phone. “One day, it won’t wake up.”

The sadness in my voice drew his gaze back to me. After a moment, he handed the phone back to me. I gave him a little smile before powering it down and slipping it back into my pouch.

“This phone shows you what is to come?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. The phone can only show what it’s seen and heard. It can’t show things that haven’t happened yet.”

“Then how did you know Henrik would seek to leave the caves?”

I bit my bottom lip, staring at him. “Where I’m from, many years from now, we’ve heard of you. You and your family.”

Klaus started. “Us?”

I nodded. “You’re a tale. Like, um,” I thought of the most recent story I’d told them, “Lilo and Stitch.”

Klaus stared at me, as if he were trying to determine whether to believe me. “My family?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He was utterly baffled.

I swallowed. “Because,” I said quietly, “of what you become.”

And beneath the shade of the great oak, where we had laid together, I began another story.

The Original Vampires.

* * *

Klaus paced. His expression dark and dangerous. I sat on the ground, hugging my knees as I watched him. The sun was setting. We’d have to head back soon. I hadn’t had time to tell him everything, but I’d hit the important points.

He turned on his heel to stare down at me, eyes bright with too many emotions for me to even try to sort through. “I am not Mikael’s son?”

“No,” I said, quiet.

He stared off into the trees, his hands curling into fists. “I am like the wolves.”

“Yes.”

He gripped his amulet. “And this gift from my mother—it weakens my temper?”

“The worst of it, I think.” I frowned. “I’m not exactly sure how it works.”

He scowled. “Are you sure?” He spat. “Because I am _more_ than a little angry at the moment!”

“Then without it, you’d be—” I shivered.

Klaus glared at me. “Mother and Mikael intend to turn us into monsters.” He said it like I’d fed them the idea.

I huddled further against my knees. “Well, I don’t think they meant for you to be—monsters. They just want you—”

“Stronger, faster, immortal. Yes.” Klaus’ brows pinched together before he resumed his pacing. “And I will… I will… _kill_ mother.”

I said nothing.

He turned on his heel and dropped to a crouch in front of me. I fought not to lean away as he stared me down. “This tale is _madness_ , Ashley.”

“I know,” I said, miserable as I met his fierce glare. “I said you wouldn’t believe me.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I breathed with him, taking the earth and the trees into my lungs. The forest was filled with the calming song of crickets and the whisper of the wind through the leaves. Unlike us, it was at peace, uncaring of our burdens.

After a time, Klaus spoke again. “No… no, you knew Henrik’s fate,” he said, before opening his eyes. They were still bright, but the anger had eased. Now they were filled with some other emotion. Something I couldn’t quite name—but that frightened me more than the anger.

He had never looked more like… like _Klaus_.

Quiet fell between us as Klaus stared off into the trees, eyes narrowed in thought.

Eventually I asked, “What are you going to do?”

Klaus’ jaw flared. Slowly, he turned back to me. “Mikael and mother’s plot.” His brows cinched together. “When do they act?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Before the next full moon, probably. The… story… wasn’t specific.” I stared at him, realizing that now—now someone else knew the secret. Knew and could help. “How do we stop it?”

Klaus tilted his head, his gaze sliding to meet mine. “Stop it?” he wondered.

I blinked at him, baffled. “Well… I mean… you don’t want to be a… a _vampire_.”

“If what you say is true,” Klaus began slowly, “then this spell turns our family into powerful beings that live a thousand years.”

I stared at him, my heart sinking. “By drinking people’s blood, Klaus. You turn into—”

“Monsters, yes.” Klaus gazed off into the night. “But… the power we would have.”

And suddenly, I recognized the light in his eyes. Madness. But not the garden variety of madness. Not the kind that saw hallucinations and heard voices. This was the kind that hungered.

For strength. For power.

“Klaus, you kill your _mother_.”

Klaus shook his head before turning to me. “I did not know what was to come. I was unprepared.” He took my face in his hands, excitement lifting his features. “There must be a way to keep my condition from Mikael. Then he would not go to mother to curse me. He would not hunt us.”

I stared at him, aghast. “Klaus!”

“She shall never deny me my birthright.” His eyes gleamed.

I stared at him. “How are you going to hide the fact you’ve triggered your curse?” I demanded in a low hiss, as if they might hear me all the way out here. “You’ll be a _freaking_ werewolf!” I said, slipping into English.

“A hybrid,” he corrected, using the word I’d taught him. “The most powerful of all.” His eyes brightened even further. “More powerful than Mikael!”

Heart pounding, I surged to my feet. “ _This_ is madness.”

He rose to stand before me. He took my face into his hands again, stepping forward until our chests were pressed flush together. “We shall be without equals, Ashley.”

It felt as if a band were wrapped around my ribs and was slowly tightening. “Klaus—I—I’m not even supposed to _be_ here.”

“But you are,” he insisted firmly. “And you are my wife.” He leaned forward, until his forehead rested against mine. “We are one. Do you not remember our vows?”

My heart gave a little squeeze. “Yes.” I whispered. “Yes, of course I do.”

“A wife _should_ die with her husband, to journey with him into the afterlife.” He ran a hand through my hair. “But we, my love, shall live a thousand years.” His voice was smooth, and his hand was gentle as it traced a path down my neck. “You know the worst of what comes. Together, we would have nothing and no one to fear.”

His lips pressed against mine, to speak against mine. “Together, we shall live a thousand more.”

* * *

I poured Klaus his ale. _We say nothing_. He looked up, a new gleam in his eye. _Let them enact their dark spell_. “My thanks.”

I swallowed and managed a thin smile before moving to Elijah’s cup. He mustered a weak smile for me. _We can turn Tatia and keep my brother from ruin_. My lips trembled a bit as I poured for him.

Pitcher in hand, I walked back to the shelf and placed it down next to where Rebekah was skinning Mikael’s latest rabbit. _Let Rebekah meet the love she has always sought_.

I sat on my stool, gaze falling to Mikael as he ripped apart a hunk of bread and dipped it in the stew. _We keep Mikael in the dark until it is too late to stop us_.

Kol barely touched his food. He only drank his ale. _You said yourself, Kol takes to this new life better than any of us_.

Finn lifted his bowl to drink down the last of his supper. _Finn shall do as mother says_.

My gaze slid to Esther, despondent as she sat beside the hearth. _Mother shall never lose another child_.

I stared down at my hands that lay folded in my lap, knuckles whitening as they shook. _And you shall live to see your fantastic world again_.


	12. The Darkest of Magics

I knew the day of Esther’s spell was to be soon when Ayana visited. Esther sent me to wash the dishes while she and Mikael spoke to her. Belly full of lead and heart racing, I hurried out the house to do as she bid.

It wasn’t long before the door opened back up and Ayana emerged, brow furrowed and eyes troubled. We shared a brief glance before she walked back down the hill and to the path.

From that meeting forth, Esther left the chores to Rebekah and me as she left each day to wander the woods. Planning, I thought.

Klaus was planning too.

“Esther means to act soon,” I told him as we stood beneath our oak tree.

Klaus had the back of a curled finger pressed against his lips in thought. “And the curse shall be triggered the first time I kill?” he asked, looking up.

Dread squeezed my lungs. “Yes.” I hesitated, then surged forward to grab Klaus’ tunic. I stared into his eyes. “But you’ll be a murderer.” I laid my hands to either side of his neck as he gazed down at me. “There’s still time to stop this. If they knew the consequences—”

Klaus took my wrists and gently pulled my hands away. Pressing them back together, he lifted them up and kissed them. “I am decided,” he said, quiet but firm. He wrapped his hands over mine. “After the first transformation, I shall be able to turn at will?”

My heart sank. My head dropped. “Yes.”

His finger curved under my chin and lifted my gaze back up. “Then we must only ensure Mikael and mother know nothing of my first transformation.” His lips curled into a small, secret smile. “This shall work, Ashley.”

My eyes burned as my view of him turned watery. “I don’t want to be a monster,” I whispered, my words trembling as the tears tumbled down my cheeks.

“Hush.” He brought his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. He lowered his head to speak into my hair as my tears dampened his shoulder. “You could never be such.” He kissed the top of my head. “You shall be strong and fast and immortal.” He moved back to gaze at me, his hand stroking my hair. “Before you, one such as Hugin shall be as weak as the maggot he is and squashed as easily.”

I shivered and he held me tighter. “You need only be brave for a single night,” he whispered to me. “Then you shall never fear _anything_ again.”

* * *

It began like any other supper.

Somber, of late. Esther served the meals except for Klaus’. Once I had set his pottage before him, I poured his ale and then the rest of the table’s. Esther, Rebekah, and I ate at the shelf. I refilled everyone’s cups.

It wasn’t until Mikael brought out a small cask of wine that I realized this was it.

My heart clenched painfully before it began to race. My head swam and I gripped the shelf, fearing I’d fall over. I sought Klaus, found him already staring at me. A moment of perfect understanding passed between us.

“Wine, father?” Elijah asked, a brow raised, as Mikael opened the cask.

Esther then stepped in from the twilight outside, holding a metal goblet. My stomach churned as I realized it would have Tatia’s blood within. “It has been very dire of late,” Esther told us as she stepped up beside Mikael. The two shared a look before Esther turned to the table and smiled at her sons. “Let us move forward.”

“I shall not say no to wine,” Kol said, a small shadow of his old self emerging.

Esther smiled benevolently at him. “We shall all partake.” She glanced at Mikael before seeming to straighten her back and fixing the smile to her face again. “A symbol. To a new beginning. As a family.”

Klaus’ eyes gleamed as he smiled. “What a lovely sentiment, mother.”

Esther extended the goblet and Mikael dipped a cup into the cask before filling it. He then took the goblet from Esther and, looking into her eyes, took a drink.

The goblet was then passed to Finn, who likewise drank. He handed the goblet to Elijah. And so it went, until it fell to Klaus, who’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Goblet leaving his mouth, he wore a little smile before holding the goblet out to me.

His stare commanded me to take it.

I couldn’t help the tremor in my hands and had to hold onto the sides with both. The wine was black in the shadow of the cup. My wide, frightened eyes stared back at me from the dark mirror within.

My stomach clenched and my throat worked as I lifted the goblet and rested the edge against my bottom lip. I had no idea how much I had to drink. I took a small mouthful, struggling not to gag as the wine filled my mouth. I had never had but a few sips of wine, but it was sweet on my tongue. Quickly, I swallowed—having to do so several times to get it all past the lump in my throat.

I handed the cup to Rebekah, who took it with far less hesitation before eagerly tipping it back.

She handed what was left back to her mother.

But, of course, Esther didn’t drink.

Her sights swept over us all before she met Mikael’s eyes for a final time. He nodded. Esther silently crossed the room back to the door and stepped through.

It groaned before shutting firmly behind her.

She would not stay for what was next, I realized, my pulse beating in my ears. I wiped my palms on the skirt of my dress and struggled to stay quiet. It wasn’t easy. I wanted to jump up and run, screaming.

Mikael fit the lid back onto the cask and, blade of his sword seeming to sing as he drew it, began to beat the lid back down with the pommel.

“No more?” Kol asked, disappointed.

“Do not be a glutton, Kol,” Elijah admonished.

Mikael moved the cask to the side, beneath the shelf by Rebekah.

His sword remained in his hand.

“I am not asking to drink the whole thing,” Kol refuted with a slight frown. “I merely thought we would partake of more than a mere sip.”

“Wine is expensive,” Elijah said, his tone final as if that were the end of the conversation.

“Well, yes, but what is the point if it is never drank?” Kol insisted.

Finn sighed. “Kol, will you shut—”

The point of the sword that protruded from Finn’s chest cut off his words.

For a terrible moment, there was only the sound of Finn’s shocked, “Father?” before the terrible noise of meat slicing apart and bone cracking as the sword was wrenched back out.

Finn managed to stay sitting upright for one more breath before he slumped down to the table.

And all was bedlam.

Everyone leapt up. Rebekah screamed—a keening, raw thing of terror and horror. It must have drawn Mikael’s attention, because with a great roar, he turned and thrust his sword into Rebekah’s chest. Like Finn before her, it cut off her voice as she stared, shocked and terrified, at her father before he yanked the sword back out.

Rebekah fell into the shelf, knocking the bowls aside and spilling the flour. She tried to stay standing but slowly slipped to the floor, her lashes falling with her. She slumped on the ground and didn’t move.

“NO!” Elijah leapt across the table, armed with nothing. Elijah all but skewered himself as Mikael did nothing but turn and aim his sword like a javelin. Momentum brought Elijah almost all the way down the blade as it burst out his back. His mouth dropped open, but he managed to grab Mikael’s shoulder. His eyes shone with terrible betrayal as he held onto Mikael as long as he could before his grip slackened.

Mikael grunted as he pulled his sword free of his son. Elijah fell facedown onto the table and was still.

Kol stood, hands clenched, and glared as Mikael turned to him. His eyes burned with hatred as he shouted, “Do it, then! Do i—”

Mikael, holding his blade still as it pierced between Kol’s ribs, stared down at his son. Kol looked back, face contorted with a pain that was born of something deeper than the physical before Mikael forced his sword out of his chest. Kol crumpled to the ground, breathing a few more times before his chest stopped moving. His eyes remained open as he stared up, unseeing.

Klaus stared at Mikael, his expression relaxed, no sign of fear in the blue of his eyes. Even as Mikael readied for the lunge, Klaus lifted his chin. Mikael thrust and Klaus’ expression finally contorted and flinched as the metal punched into his chest. He grunted and, teeth gritted, grabbed the blade, squinting through agonized eyes to stare directly at Mikael. Defiant.

Mikael, perversely, looked almost proud. “At least you die well,” he said, before he kicked Klaus off his sword.

I caught Klaus as he fell back, both of us crashing into the wall. I held to him tightly as we both fell to the ground. Cradling his head, tears staining my cheeks, blood slid out his nose and his mouth as he stared up. His teeth clenched, and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but he seized before stiffening. It lasted only a moment before his whole body relaxed and went limp.

He was dead.

Everyone was dead… but me. And Mikael.

Mikael didn’t say a word to me. He didn’t look particularly angry or even murderous. He regarded me as if I were a hog or a goat to slaughter as he adjusted the angle of his sword so that it would hit my heart. I imagine I was considerably easier for him to kill than his children.

I tried to ready myself. To be brave. I held onto Klaus’ body and gasped down a breath, my muscles tensing as Mikael’s arms flexed.

There was no readying for being run through with a sword.

It cracked my bones as he forced the blade through my ribs. It shredded through the center of my heart, which slid along the metal as it tried to beat despite being skewered. The tip hit my spine and dislocated a vertebra, so that when he yanked the blade back out through tissue and bone, my spine folded and pinched, tipping me to the side.

It was an explosion of pain as my heart kept trying to pump blood, only to spill it all into my chest. My ribs hurt almost as bad. It was agonizing, and that was before the blood flooded into throat, choking off my breath.

The numbing cold spreading out from my limbs, the approaching darkness, was a relief.

My last view was of Mikael, turning his blade onto himself. And then all was black.

* * *

Coming back to life was like waking up. Except it was cold. And I was naked. Lying exposed beneath a bright white light.

And it was agony. A terrible, excruciating pain. It felt as if I’d been split down the middle.

“Oh my god!” came a terrified shout as metal clanged and rang out with an echo while something was wheeled back across a hard floor.

I wished for death again as my body cracked and jerked. I looked down, saw my ribs shifting closer after having been split apart. A long gash in my skin that went from the bottom of my belly to my chest, where it split into a v, fusing itself back together. Things were swelling and growing within my chest and my belly.

Once the skin had sealed and it felt as if I had organs again, I was able to take a breath. Stunned, I sat up, hand drifting higher to cover my naked breasts as I looked around.

The room was large, so much larger than any I’d been in the last year. And clean. And bright. And it had plaster walls and tiled floor. I could hear the hum of electricity, the stirring of air from a vent. In fact, I could hear and see it all too well. The synthetic light was too bright to do anything but squint to make out a metal rolling tray standing next to me, the sinks along the walls, the cabinets filled with more steel equipment. I longed to cover my ears to keep out the constant humming. The smell of chemical cleaners burned my nose and my throat.

Next to me, a white-faced, round-eyed heavyset man with shaggy blonde hair in a medical lab coat—staring at me as if I were an alien. “What—what—”

I pressed my thighs together and bent over, trying to hide more of myself from his stare. Although, he wasn’t leering, but gaping. “Where am I?” I asked.

He clamored to his feet, knocking the tray beside him over, sending scalpels and saws tumbling to the ground. He was backing up as fast as he could to the wall. When he hit it, his palms slapped against the plaster—which made me wince as the sound of it stabbed my ears. “You… you’re dead!”

And then I realized he was speaking English. “I’m dead,” I said, softly.

Slowly, he nodded.

I lifted the hand not covering my chest to examine it. Skin. Bones. It flexed and relaxed as the muscles shifted beneath my skin.

Suddenly, I remembered. I looked around for Klaus, Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, and Finn. “Where’s—where’s everyone else?!”

The man’s big round eyes shifted to the great big humming wall of cabinets behind me.

No, not cabinets. A freezer for bodies.

“Klaus!” I cried, rolling over and off the metal table I’d been laying on. I stared at the rows of doors, so many of them, and turned to the man. I saw he had been inching along the wall, away from me. “Where is he?!”

He cringed. “Who?”

“Klaus!” I demanded, my heart pounding. I was frantic with the need to see him. To touch him. To know he lived.

He shook his head, frantic. “There’s… there’s no one with that name.” Something in my face made him pale even further. “There’s a Kevin!” he offered in a high, petrified voice.

“Where am I?”

“Linn County Morgue.” He replied. He kept boggling. “How are you alive? You—your head was pulp! You had too many broken bones to count.” He stared at a bowl sitting on an electric scale. “Your organs are in bags!”

With a sudden, horrifying inspiration, I realized I had just woken up in my own autopsy.

Slowly, I inched towards the scale. A pink stomach laid inside.

I scuttled back and knocked into the table behind me. A metal table with drains and a sink fused at the end. The autopsy table.

“How?” I wondered, stomach clenching painfully. The man shook his head frantically. Goosebumps broke out over my skin as I turned to him. “What—what happened to me?”

He swallowed. “You were the only fatality in yesterday’s tornado. The one that touched down next to Palo Lake,” he explained in a rush.

I had to grip the steel table to stay standing. “Tornado.”

He nodded.

Chills had me curling, and I could barely swallow past the lump in my throat. Whatever magic that had transported me to the world of the Vampire Diaries when I must have… died… had it just transported me back?

Because I had died… again?

But… but…

I stared over at the table, and the tray with its saws and its scalpels.

I was… I was…

Home.

And hungry.


	13. Home

Oliver’s heartbeat was distracting. So was his rapid breaths and the smell of his sweat that had broken out down his back and around his hairline. There was a peculiar copper tinge to the air. I couldn’t identify it at first, not until I realized my mouth was watering.

My eyes started to swell, and the skin beneath fluttered. My gums hurt.

Oliver Girvin, as his nametag identified him, started inching further away as the coppery scent grew stronger along with the size of his eyes—which were bulging. “What are you?!”

I could feel something happening to my face. I stared down into the steel tabletop, afraid I already knew what I’d find in its reflection. I was right. My eyes had darkened, the whites now filled with dark blood, and black veins pulsed under the delicate skin beneath. Drawing my lips back, I saw my incisors had lengthened considerably… into fangs.

A frightened sound left my throat. I turned away, unable to look. Unfortunately, that brought Oliver back into my line of sight.

I’ve never thought of myself as a violent person. Before hitting Hugrid on that streambank, I’d never raised a hand to anyone. I’d yelled, but I’d never struck out. I hadn’t even thrown things.

So the part of me that wanted to rip into Oliver’s neck was freaking terrifying—because I _really, really_ wanted to cross the distance and do it. I was tensed, ready to pounce. My mouth was watering. All I could think about was that coppery scent pulsating beneath his skin.

It would taste so good. I was certain of it.

I was scared of how certain I was of it.

“You need to go,” I said quietly, words forming a little awkwardly around my long fangs.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding faint. “Good idea.”

He started to inch towards the door. It was behind me. I really ought to move so he had more space, so he wasn’t so close. But I was afraid if I moved, it wouldn’t be backwards. But I was afraid not to move, because it brought him and his _blood blood blood_ closer.

_Don’t move. Don’t move. Bloodbloodblood. Don’t move._

“Leave your coat and your car keys,” I murmured.

He let his lab coat fall to the floor, grabbing his keys out of the pocket of his jeans as he kept sliding along the wall. The keys jangled as they hit the tiles.

“And don’t run.” I didn’t think I could stop myself if he started running.

“Okay,” he said, voice trembling. His eyes were so bright with fear… but he had so much blood…

Surely Oliver didn’t need all that blood? He wouldn’t miss a little bit. Just a little.

He was at the door, stepping through. He was almost gone.

His blood was almost gone.

I was clenching my fists so hard my bones were cracking. I welcomed the pain. It helped distract from the **_blood_**.

It helped when I couldn’t see him anymore. But I could hear his steps. He wasn’t running. I could hear his heartbeat pounding. I could smell him. I could find him.

 _Breathe_. I thought, remembering Stefan’s words to the newborn Caroline on the show. _Breathe_.

So I stood and listened to the electric lights humming and Oliver’s steps and heartbeat growing more and more distant, and breathed.

When the strange swelling in my eyes began to ease, and my gums ached as my teeth retracted, I let out a breath that was trembling with fear.

Klaus had lied. He said I’d never have to be afraid again.

But I was _terrified_ —of _myself_.

I wanted to hurt that man. I _still_ wanted to find and hurt that man.

My eyes filled with the familiar burn of tears. I swallowed, crossing over to Oliver’s white lab coat. It smelled like him. _I could find him_.

I grit my teeth and slid my arms into the sleeves. I had to complete the transition. I had to… I had to find blood. Blood that wasn’t in a person. Blood bags, maybe.

… or did I?

I shivered as a chill went down my spine. I was home, but I was a vampire. An Original Vampire. In a world where that was just a story. A fun television show about love triangles and supernatural creatures.

I was a walking plague. A _monster_. It was different when I would have Klaus and the others. They were already destined to be what they were but… but how could I unleash vampirism on my world?

If I finished the transition… would anything be able to kill me? Would I ever die?

But… I didn’t want to die.

I was already dead.

I had to go. I couldn’t stay. I could still hear Oliver’s heartbeat, and he wasn’t alone.

* * *

The sunlight hit my eyes like needles. I squinted as I roamed the parking lot, clutching the lab coat closed and following Oliver’s scent to a blue Honda SUV. His wasn’t the only scent. I could smell dozens of people. I could smell the steel of the cars and trucks. The oil of the engines. The concrete. The sediment in the bricks of the building. I could smell so much it was overwhelming.

I pressed the unlock button on the remote hanging from the keychain and got in. My nose crinkled at the oily scent of old fast food—onions and burgers and salty fries. Diet coke. His car was clean, though. It must be lingering scents.

I winced at the ungodly roar as the engine started.

I turned to the navigator screen and entered in my apartment. I needed clothes.

And I just wanted to go home.

Following the commands, sunshield down as far as it would go, my eyes ached as I navigated through traffic. Luckily, I only needed the navigator to help me get to the interstate—which went right through the center of the city. Once I was driving down the interstate, I knew my way home. I shut off the display.

As I drove, I wondered. How had this happened? Why now? It had to be connected to my death. Maybe the magic of the spell had something to do with it, too.

I had just gotten used to the notion of never returning home. I’d gotten _married_. I had a _husband_. How? Why?

The tears were starting again. I breathed until the urge passed.

If I finished the transition, I would only be able to go out at night. Forever.

How could I bring vampirism here? It would be selfish.

But I was scared to die, too.

My mind was a mess of thoughts. None of them settled by the time I made it home. I pulled into my usual spot—my car was probably a pile of twisted metal—and got out.

It was so good to see the three-story building I was silently crying again. I was getting tired of how often I was tearing up. Then I remembered that vampires had heightened emotions. I grimaced, swiping my cheeks before entering the keycode on the security pad and entering the building.

I took the stairs up to the second floor and turned to the apartment on the right. I didn’t have my key. I grabbed the doorknob and, with a breath, twisted until the metal bent and gave.

Okay. So that was neat.

I pushed the door open and entered my apartment for the first time in nearly a year.

Everything was powered off. My television in the corner, the sofa I’d gotten from my parents and a cheap coffee table sitting between them. The long counter that separated the living room from the narrow kitchen. I had a few dirty dishes in the sink from my breakfast before I’d gone jogging.

I was about to head down the hall into my bedroom when I realized there was a heartbeat, and it wasn’t a neighbor. It was someone in my room.

Oh. _Not_ a good day to break in.

They were moving—stepping into the hall.

I gasped at the sight of the slender, tall strawberry blonde who left my bedroom, one of my dresses in hand. Megan stopped, hand to her mouth as her wide, startled eyes drank me in. “Ashley?” she whispered, her voice quavering.

The tears that were always hovering on the edge of my eyelids spilled over as I moved towards her. “Megan!”

“Oh, thank god,” she said, as she hurried forward and met me halfway, throwing her arms around me. “They said you were dead!” she cried, before leaning back and staring at me. “I was… was getting a dress for the funeral home!”

I couldn’t speak. I was crying too hard.

She was crying too, her words wavering and wet. “They said we’d need to have a closed casket. But we could bring a dress. Your mom is beside herself, so I said I’d come and pick it out. I was getting the yellow one you wore to her party. You looked so nice in it, and I thought you liked it,” she babbled in a rush.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to breathe. “I’m sorry!” I just repeated it over and over.

She shook her head, hugging me again. I luxuriated in her presence when I’d believed I’d never see her or any of my family again. She was warm, alive, smelling of her rose perfume and... and… and…

My mouth began to water.

Shuddering, I tore myself from her arms, and in a split second was across the apartment.

Megan’s mouth was in a little ‘o’, her eyes big and confused. She started for me.

“Don’t!” I cried, frantic as I pressed myself into the wall, my head knocking my old oil painting of a lily askew. “Don’t come closer!”

“Ashely?” She didn’t listen and took a step. “What—"

“You need to go,” I said, terrified as I could feel the blood starting to well into my eyes.

“Ashley, I’m not—”

“GO!” I screamed, my teeth lengthening as the veins beneath my eyes pulsed. “GET OUT!”

Megan blinked at me, wide blue eyes bewildered as worry creased her forehead. She held out her hands. “Alright. Okay. If that’s what you want.” She moved to the door and frowned down at the handle as she noticed it was broken. “Your door—”

_BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD_

“GO!”

Visibly upset, she left. I could hear her heart hammering as she stood outside in the hall for several long seconds before moving off towards the staircase.

I raced to my closet—which took me to my room in a blink of the eye. My bed was unmade. I had dirty laundry still in the hamper. My closet was open. I grabbed my briefcase from the floor, threw it on the bed, and started stuffing it full of clothes, tears running down my cheeks as I wept. I couldn’t be around anyone I knew. I was too unstable.

God, I was so _hungry_.

I changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but not even the comfort of modern clothing could pierce the constant cravings for blood. I thought of the smell of it. Imagined the warmth.

My mouth watered again and my features shifted.

I let out an aggravated cry and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. I stopped and tried to breathe. But there were so many heartbeats I could hear in the building. So much blood. It would be so easy to go to any of their doors. Their locks would be nothing. And then I could go in and… and…

“No,” I moaned, forcing the thought away as I lunged for the suitcase.

I had to get away. Not even my apartment was safe.

Fortunately, there was one thing I craved more than blood.

Answers.

* * *

There was only one occult shop I knew of in the city. A new age store filled with tarot cards, crystal balls, and books about magic. My friends and I had gone on a lark, just to look.

My sunglasses helped block out the sting of the sun, but it was still too bright. It was hard staying to the speed limit when I was racing the clock and my craving. But I needed to understand how I’d ended up back in my world from Klaus’.

I needed to know if there was a way back.

The store was downtown, which meant I had to use public parking several blocks away from the actual building. I pulled the ticket from the machine and parked in the first available spot. Thankfully, it wasn’t near the road. Hopefully, if Oliver had reported it stolen, it wouldn’t be seen from the street.

I hurried across the pavement, the sounds and smells assaulting me. All the cars were roaring loud enough to shake my brain as they passed, hundreds of voices were talking in the surrounding buildings—some skyrises, some no taller than three floors. There were heartbeats everywhere. The sky smelled of exhaust and cement. But there were scents of people, too.

The Third Eye didn’t do much to cut off the din, but it helped a little as I stepped in past the glass door bearing its name. The shop was modest, squeezed between a hair salon and a Chinese restaurant. I could smell the food in one and the haircare products in the other. The Third Eye itself smelled of patchouli and spices—and the wealth of incense on a shelf near the door explained why. Other shelves showcased tarot cards, healing crystals, horoscope books, and various occult items.

A woman no older than her mid-thirties smiled at me from behind a glass counter with several pieces of jewelry. She was dressed in a business casual blouse and pants, wore lavender perfume, and had a healthy heart. I grit my teeth before approaching as close to the counter as I dared.

“Hello. Are you looking for something specific?” She set her hands on the counter and leaned forward.

I swallowed as I stared around. “I’m… not sure.” I stared at her through my sunglasses. “Do you know anything about, um…” I paused, “magic that can move someone through worlds?”

“We have many books on astral projection,” she said, a polite smile on her face.

“Astral projection. That has something to do with your… spirit… moving out of your body, right?”

“Yes.” She moved to a shelf behind her and brought a book with the figure of a man floating through clouds on the cover to the counter. I sidled as close as I dared. “Practitioners find they can move through time, space, and worlds.”

“Okay. Yeah.” I reached out and took the book and picked it up. But browsing the table of contents revealed a lot of stuff about meditations and dreams. “Can you do it without all the meditating and dreaming?”

She tilted her head. Exposing her neck. I closed my eyes behind my glasses as she asked, “How do you mean?”

“Like, just, being bodily moved to another world? Like a fictional one?”

She stared. “Ah…”

So. That was a hard ‘no’ then.

My heart sunk. My gaze fell with it.

The gleam of the crystals and stones attracted my sights. I could see them as if under a microscope—the grains of colored sediment that made them up. The imperfections in the crystals.

But one in particular caught my eye. I stared down at it. It was _exactly_ like the translucent violet pendant Ayana had given to me at my first festival. “What’s this?” I pointed to the ring.

“Labradorite,” she said, picking the ring out of the case and setting it on the glass countertop. “It brings out the wearer’s innate magical powers.”

“Is that it?”

She blinked at me. “No. It’s said to protect travelers. It also enhances mental and intuitive abilities. Telepathy. Empathic abilities. And, well,” she laughed a bit, “provides the means of moving between worlds, funnily enough.”

I stared at it. “Really.”

“Yes. Astral projection—”

“How much?” I demanded.

She pointed to the small card by the case that had held the ring. “Two hundred and thirty-eight.”

I slid my credit card across the counter.

* * *

I couldn’t stop craving blood. So I thought about Klaus. About his family. About the world I’d left behind.

I drove out to Palo, back to where it had all started. But trees were down, covering the access road. I got as close as I could before pulling off on the side of the highway and then taking off into the woods.

I could run faster than I could drive.

I ran to the lake, and then took in the waters as the sunlight sparkled on the rippling waves. The wind that smelled of earth and trees that picked up my hair. A small group of ducks were swimming, ducking their bills into the water before coming back up and shaking their heads. After a while, they swam to the shoreline and waddled out in a small procession to wander around the bank.

I couldn’t stay in this world.

And, as I stood on the bank of the lake until the sun began to set, missing Klaus desperately, I discovered I didn’t want to.

A plan formed in my mind.

Death seemed the catalyst. Why my first death did what it had, I had no idea. For all I knew, everyone was flung into a fictional universe when they died. Or maybe it was an act of the gods.

But the _second_ time—the amulet I wore couldn’t have been a coincidence.

I looked down at my finger, at the new ring I’d slipped onto it, and decided. If I wanted to see Klaus—if I was going to have a chance at it—

I had to die again.

After a time, I turned and followed the road on foot to the path. I stepped onto the trail, walking around the fallen limbs and broken trees. I walked a little way out of sight of the road and picked a spot just off the trail, a nice little patch of grass under a still-standing tree.

If this worked, someone would have to find my body.

I pulled out the phone I’d plucked from a woman’s purse during a brief trip inside the Chinese restaurant and tapped out a number for the last time.

The phone rang several times before it was answered. “Hello?”

“Hi dad.”

“Ashley?” The relief and joy in his voice made my eyes tear up.

In the background I could hear Megan proclaim that she’d told them she’d seen me alive.

“Ashley, honey, where are you?”

“Is mom there?”

“Yes, let me just—” after a second of juggling around, I heard their voices on speakerphone. “Where are you?”

I looked around. Most of the trees were bent, or broken, or split in half. But that just gave a clearer view of the pink and gold sky as the sun set. “Somewhere nice.”

“Ashley—”

“I wanted to tell you not to worry about me.” I swallowed. “I’m gonna be okay.”

“Ashley, please,” my mom pleaded. “Tell us where you are.”

I couldn’t be around them without putting them in danger. I couldn’t let them find my body. “I love you,” I said. “I’ll always love you no matter where I am.”

There was a long pause before my dad said, “You’re scaring us, honey.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “I don’t mean to.” I took a deep breath. “I just had to say goodbye this time.”

“Goodbye?!” My mom cried. I could hear her heart breaking.

“The yellow dress was a good choice. I do like it.” I stared up at the sky. “Please don’t be sad. Not for too long. That’s not what I want.”

“Ash—”

“Goodbye,” I whispered.

I pushed the button to end the call, tears running down my cheeks. I crushed the phone as it started to ring and tossed it aside.

There were a plethora of branches laying around to choose from. I picked one about the length of my forearm and half the width of my wrist.

I took a breath, closed my eyes and pictured Klaus’ face. Angling my makeshift stake, I shoved it into my chest.

I heaved out a pained, wheezing breath as it stabbed my lung.

Yanking it back out with a grunt, I adjusted the angle. “C’mon,” I said as soon as my lung had sealed itself back up. I let out several breaths. This time I kept my eye on the stick and its angle as I thrust it past my ribs.

My heart slid painfully along the stick’s bumpy surface as it tried to keep pumping, but a cold was radiating out from my chest, a weakness was spreading that had me collapsing back against the tree.

I thought of Klaus as I lay dying.

I thought of home.

* * *

I woke to the heat and woodsmoke.

I sat up and immediately began coughing. Coughing that turned into pained gasps as my skin blistered and burned. I looked around and found myself at the center of a bed of logs and branches. And it was hot, painfully hot. It was glowing around me.

Was I… was I on fire?!

“Ashley!”

I looked over, saw Klaus staring at me in wonder—that quickly turned to horror. He took a running leap and landed onto the burning bed of wood with me. Grunting, he lifted me into his arms and jumped back out.

I sighed in relief as my skin began to heal. Turning my head to the side, I saw a funeral pyre burning in the Mikaelsons’ backyard. I looked up into Klaus’ wonderous face. He was staring down at me, eyes bright with emotion. The others were moving closer. Rebekah was crying. Apparently, her emotions were as unstable as mine.

Klaus swallowed. “You took so long to wake,” he said, a fresh agony hollowing his words. “We thought—”

“It’s a long story,” I sighed.

I moved to stand, and Klaus set me onto my feet.

Before it had a chance to move me again, I tore the amulet from my neck and flung it as hard as I could. Which, as a vampire, meant it went flying off into the dark horizon. Despite the night hour, I could see as clear as if it were day as it sailed away into the forest.

Klaus gripped my shoulders. “You need blood.” He looked over to the others. “She needs blood! Quickly!”

“Any of the villagers left?” Kol wondered as he turned to the house.

Elijah darted up the hill and disappeared inside. I realized to human eyes, he probably would have been a blur. To me, it just looked like he was running.

As Elijah pulled a screaming, crying woman with him, I shuddered. I shuddered because my mouth was starting to water. And my eyes were welling with blood. I shuddered because a huge part of me didn’t care that she was clearly terrified.

She was blood.

Elijah pulled a dagger from his belt and grabbed the woman’s arm. She tried to pull away, but Kol came over and held her firm.

“This isn’t—” I tried weakly, my head pounding with want for the coppery scent on the air.

“Yes,” Klaus said, firm and final. “It is.”

Elijah ran the edge of the dagger down her arm. And as the blood flowed free, its scent stronger than ever, that was the end of any rational thought.

Life.

It was life.

Power flowed through my muscles. Pleasure exploded across all my nerve endings. I felt sunlight warming my skin. A wave of bliss swept my thoughts into a golden haze. It was better than any food I’d ever tasted. It was better than any alcohol-induced buzz. It was better than sex.

I drank and drank until I was forced back and away. I fought, struggling to get to the sluggishly bleeding arm that was being taken away.

“No more,” Klaus whispered, his voice piercing through my haze. “Her heart slows.”

My conscience was horrified, but it was easily ignored. I was too busy basking in the afterglow, in the strength I felt flowing through me as I leaned against Klaus.

“I was back,” I murmured to him as I leaned my head against his shoulder, the light of my funeral pyre bathing us in its glowing warmth.

Klaus swept his hand through my hair, brushing it back from my face. “Back?”

“Home.”

He stilled.

“It was the amulet Ayana gave me. I think… I think it can move a person’s spirit or whatever through worlds.” I turned my head to stare at him. “It took me home, Klaus.”

He stared back at me, eyes shining with fear. “Then how…”

I let out a breath. My eyes overflowed with tears once more. “I don’t belong there anymore,” I reached up and pressed my hand to the side of his face. “I belong here. With you.”

Klaus’ eyes brightened, all traces of fear gone. Replaced by elation.

“Always,” I said softly. “Forever.”

He turned me around and kissed me.

The taste of blood was still on his tongue.


	14. Hunger

_Hunger._

“This is intolerable.” Kol paced the floor. Occasionally he would rub his temple before his hand fell back to his side.

_Insatiable hunger._

“Mother shall find a solution.” Head bowed over the table, Finn cradled his brow in a hand.

_A chasm of emptiness within, yearning to be filled._

“But it has been a week and we are still trapped in here.” Rebekah was surrounded by the carcasses of rabbits and squirrels. Too many to skin in a day. But there wasn’t a drop of blood to be found anywhere near the bodies.

_It’s impossible to think of anything else._

“Patience.” Elijah’s head was tilted back as he leaned against the wall. The occasional flaring of his jaw betrayed his otherwise calm exterior.

_And sooner or later, it must be fed._

Rebekah slammed her skinning knife onto the shelf. “But—”

“Enough.”

Mikael’s voice made everyone tense. My heart clenched with remembered pain and terror.

Esther was gone. We didn’t know where. We couldn’t know where. She may have been the matriarch of the family, but she had blood. The very thing we seven newborn vampires were desperate for.

Klaus and I were in the loft. I lay curled at his side, head on his shoulder, trying to rest through the worst of the cravings. Klaus rubbed my back, his hand drawing various patterns along my spine.

It was another sunny day outside. Which meant we were trapped indoors. Esther had yet to discover how to spell daylight rings, so the sun remained hazardous to our health. The day passed with various bouts of bickering and complaining. Everyone was tired of being trapped inside.

We were eager to escape our confinement once night finally fell. All of us were famished.

“I shall just pop on by—”

“No,” Elijah said, hand clamping onto Kol’s shoulder.

Kol rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “But—”

“There are already questions regarding Edvar and Sefa’s disappearance,” Finn said, glowering at Kol. “How long before they notice we have changed and come howling for _our_ blood?”

“What does it matter?” Kol pressed back. “We are stronger. Faster. We can’t be killed!” he smiled and breathed a laugh at the last. “I say we let them come.”

His amusement was cut short as Mikael gripped the back of his neck. “Control yourself,” he demanded in a low growl. Once released, Kol glared spitefully at the ground. Mikael stared each of us down. “We are _not_ invulnerable.”

Rebekah started. “What? But you and mother said—”

“Your mother believes there has been a weakness garnered for each gift we have attained. Nature has surely sought to circumvent our immortality.” He narrowed his eyes as he added. “So do not test the bounds of our invulnerability until we have figured out what.”

Klaus and I exchanged a glance. We knew the weapon that could kill us. We had been trying to think of ways to hint that the great white oak tree must be burned. And how to prevent Mikael from fashioning a stake. But our more pressing concern was the full moon’s fast approach.

“What are we to eat, then?” Kol demanded.

“The same as we always have, brother,” Elijah replied dryly.

Kol scoffed. “Hares? Squirrels?” Kol grimaced. “Their blood is repulsive! It does nothing to satisfy the hunger!” He pointed to his chest. “I find myself weakened after consuming the blood of such creatures. Feeding on humans—I am faster. Stronger.” He looked around to each of us. “Surely you have all sensed the same.”

An awkward silence fell. No one was satisfied with the bunny diet. Animal blood was _nothing_ compared to human blood. The hunger remained a fierce beast constantly demanding satisfaction. And Kol was right, we were weakened by it.

“It does not matter,” Mikael replied. “We hunt as we have,” he said, his tone signaling our talk was at an end.

We split apart to hunt in the woods—Mikael taking Kol with him to ensure he did not roam to the village. I stayed with Klaus.

Despite the darkness, the moonlight illuminated everything as well as if the sun were shining. I could pinpoint veins on leaves a hundred yards away. And even if I were to suddenly go blind, I could smell everything around me. I was getting better at distinguishing the various scents. Earthen scents of dirt and rocks. The smell of bark and sap and the green of leaves and milky stems.

It was a simple matter of finding something warm blooded. The musk of sweat and fur. The sound of air exhaled. The soft whisper of grass and light thump of a delicate hoof stepping upon the ground. Klaus and I exchanged a look and simultaneously adjusted course.

The fawn’s ear twitched when were twenty yards away, but by then, it was too late. Even as it lifted its head to look, we were upon it. Klaus broke its neck before it had the chance to realize it was in danger.

We fed.

When there was no more blood to be drained, Klaus let out a frustrated breath. “Kol is right,” he said, pushing the deer’s carcass aside. “This is no solution. My hunger rages still.”

“Stefan was able—”

“We are weakened,” he snapped. At my rounded eyes, he sighed and gave an apologetic look. He beckoned me over, and as I came within arm’s reach, pulled me onto his lap. Arm’s wrapped around me, my back pressed to his chest, Klaus whispered into my hair. “We must learn this trick of compulsion. Then we may feed as we like.”

I turned my head to look up at him. “What do you suggest?”

“We sneak into the village,” Klaus murmured. “Take one of the hunters known for spending the occasional night in the woods. We say we came upon him and found ourselves able to impose our will upon his.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he hatched his scheme. “Once we discover how it is done, we show the others.”

It would introduce compulsion to the Originals years before Elijah would discover it. But, without it, the hunger would gnaw at us until we snapped. They would kill hundreds of people.

Maybe I would, too.

“Okay,” I agreed softly.

Klaus turned my head to the side and kissed me. When we pulled apart, he grinned. “I look forward to learning this power.”

* * *

My heart hammered inside my chest so hard, it nearly made me nauseous as we snuck into the house of a hunter Klaus knew to stay in the woods for days on end in leaner times. The house itself was much like Ayana’s, with a central fire pit and lacking a loft. The family slept in cots arrayed around the room, Randolfr with his wife Faství, and two boys small enough to share a narrower bed.

My mouth began to water.

I swallowed, willing myself to concentrate on the task at hand. Wondering how we were going to whisk Randolfr away without alerting his family.

To my dismay, I learned that was not Klaus’ intention at all.

Klaus, eyes turning dark and fangs lengthening, strode to Randolfr and grabbed his shoulder to shake him awake. “Randolfr.”

The others, sleep addled for a moment, soon grew ashen faced as they caught sight of Klaus. The smallest of the two children made to scream and Klaus turned to them. “Silence!”

Faství raced to their cot. The two boys kept their mouths shut but gripped their mother and made small, terrified sounds in their throats. Tears tracked down the smallest’s round cheeks as he stared, wide-eyed, at Klaus. My stomach knotted and I gripped my skirts. Surely Klaus wouldn’t hurt them?

“Niklaus,” Randolfr stared up at us in horror. “What manner of evil has possessed you?!”

“It is no matter,” Klaus said sharply, cutting him off. “All you need know is if you do as I say and keep silent,” he glowered at the others, “then no lasting harm shall come to you or your family. Understand?”

Randolfr swallowed. He looked far from understanding anything, really, but said, “Yes.”

“Good.” Klaus drew a knife, and the boys cried harder as Faství’s face lost all color. She hugged her children tighter.

“Klaus,” I said softly.

Klaus sent a look my way that had my mouth closing.

He looked back to Randolfr and, to our collective surprise, held the knife out to him. Randolfr, brows lowering and sliding together, slowly took the handle and gripped it.

“Now,” Klaus said, turning back to me. “How?”

I swallowed before slipping closer. The scent of Randolfr’s blood swam in my nose, but I forced myself to focus on Klaus’ scent instead. “I’m not sure. They would stare and then tell them what they wanted done or what to think, and they just—would.”

“Hmm.” Klaus turned to the man and tried staring into his eyes. “Cut your hand.”

Randolfr looked between us, brows pinched so close together they were nearly one. “What?”

“It’s not working,” I said. “He shouldn’t question anything.”

“What are you—”

“I said quiet,” Klaus said shortly, veins pulsing beneath his eyes as the whites within darkened.

Randolfr, gaping, leaned away.

Klaus let out a breath, and his eyes eventually returned to normal. He bent down, trying to make eye contact with Randolfr even as he was backing away in fear. “Cut yourself.”

Randolfr trembled as he drew his sleeve back.

Klaus looked pleased, but I shook my head and told Klaus, “Stop.” Klaus turned to me, lips curling in anger, but I was quick to say, “He’s afraid. He shouldn’t be. He should just do what you say without feeling anything.”

Klaus’ eyes narrowed. “Why is it not working?”

I remembered Stefan’s weakened abilities on the show. I swallowed. “It could be that we don’t have enough… enough power to make it work.”

“Power?” Klaus asked.

“Like Kol said, feeding on animals weakens us.” I didn’t want to admit it but said, “It might take human blood to work.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. He then turned to Faství. “Come here.”

She looked to her husband before shaking her head.

Klaus grit his teeth, and looked ready to say more, when Randolfr leaped up and shoved the knife deep into Klaus’ belly, drawing a surprised grunt from Klaus. Klaus looked down, shocked, before wrapping his hand around the knife and yanking it out.

Looking back up, Klaus gave the man a very unimpressed glare, which had Randolfr backing away in horror. Before he took more than two steps Klaus struck. He reached out, gripped his shoulder and pulled him back. Mouth stretching open, he bit down into his neck.

The children couldn’t keep entirely quiet as they hid their faces in their mother’s side and screamed. After a minute, I could hear Randolfr’s heart slowing. “Klaus!” I gripped his arms and pulled. “You’ll kill him!”

It took several long seconds for Klaus to let the man go. Randolfr fell back onto the cot, eyes shut and flesh pale, but his heart was still beating.

Klaus turned then to Faství. She was clearly terrified—I could see all the whites around her brown eyes she trembled where she sat, gripping her two children. “Come here.” When she shook her head, he threatened, “Do not make me come to you.”

Faství squeezed the boys one final time before letting them go. They were not so quick to be let go, holding to her shift and begging her to stay. She tore their little fists away and walked over to stand before us.

Klaus handed the knife to her. Hand shaking, she took it.

Never blinking, gaze never wavering, Klaus stared into her eyes. “Cut yourself.”

All the fear drained out of her face. Faství pulled her sleeve back and pressed the blade into her skin, and without hesitating, drew its edge across her arm.

Klaus turned to me, excitement shining from his blue eyes as his brows lifted in question.

I felt my face shifting from the smell of Faství’s blood but managed to nod for him. “Yes. Yes, I think that’s it.”

“Come,” he said, motioning me to his side. “Feed.”

I was beside him in a blink, grabbing Faství’s arm and lifting it to my face. And then all was the ecstasy of blood again. For the first few moments, I was lost to it.

“Not too much,” Klaus whispered in my ear.

At Klaus’ reminder, I managed to unclench my mouth from her wound and let her arm fall to her side. I did it without needing to be pulled away, though I badly wanted to drink more. But what I had drank was more satisfying than any other meal I’d had in weeks. I sighed, enjoying the feel of the blood as it began working its way through my body, strengthening everything nerve, muscle, and bone it touched.

Klaus gripped my shoulders before pushing me forward. “Now you.”

A little awkwardly, I fixed my gaze onto hers. With all my might, I willed her to listen to me. “We were never here,” I told her.

“You were never here,” she repeated dully.

My heart thumped harder. A thrill washed through me as I realized… I could make her do _anything_. Think _anything_. “You cut yourself preparing a meal.”

She repeated the lie.

Klaus was compelling the children to forget what they had seen and go back to sleep.

I looked down at her husband before directing my sights back to her. “Randolfr is out hunting. He stayed in the woods tonight and was never home. He’ll be home tomorrow.”

She nodded her understanding before saying he had been out again. I instructed her to get Randolfr’s clothes, which she gave to me, before sending her back to bed.

Klaus and I hurried to shove the still unconscious Randolfr into his pants and tunic. With our strength, it was like lifting and dressing a doll. Klaus put him over his shoulder and we left the home—occupants alive, asleep, and none the wiser.

It took us minutes to run back home.

The others were already there. Mikael saw Randolfr in Klaus’ arms and stalked forward towards him, expression murderous. “What have you done?!”

“We came upon him in the woods.” Klaus replied quickly. “Father, we have discovered something amazing!” He smiled. “We can impose our will upon others!”

Eyes narrowed, Mikael halted his advanced in favor of staring down Klaus. Klaus bore it stoically.

“What do you mean, Niklaus?” Elijah asked, drawing Klaus’ gaze.

Klaus grinned again. “Watch.” Klaus set Randolfr on the ground and slapped him. Considering the strength he was capable of, it was practically a pat.

Randolfr jolted awake. Confusion pinched his expression at first, until he started looking around, catching sight of all of us standing above him, staring down. His heart began to pound, and his breath quickened in terror.

Klaus pulled him up to his feet and, staring into his eyes, said, “You are not afraid.”

The fear drained from his expression, leaving it blank. His heart slowed to a normal pulse as his breathing likewise evened out.

Upon witnessing the change, the others drifted closer.

“As you were camping in the woods,” Klaus said, “You slipped and fell, cutting yourself.”

Randolfr—face blank and tone flat—repeated what Klaus said.

“Incredible,” Elijah murmured, eyes wide and brows lifted high.

“And he will believe this tale?” Mikael asked.

Klaus nodded. “Yes. He shall believe whatever I tell him to believe. Do whatever I tell him to do.”

“This… we may quench our thirst and the villagers shall realize nothing!” Rebekah’s looked at us all with a wide, beaming smile.

“Provided we do not kill them,” Finn put in, doubt weighing heavily in every word.

“Even that can be explained away,” Kol said. “Say, an outbreak of plague.”

“We are a plague,” was Finn’s grim reply. Kol shot him a dry side-eye.

“Quiet,” Mikael ordered, hushing all of us. “Take him back where you found him and return home.”

“Yes, father,” Klaus said before ordering Randolfr to sleep. As soon as he was unconscious, Klaus lifted him over his shoulder and, smiling at me, turned and ran off down the path towards the village.

“Wait! Shouldn’t we all learn this trick?” Rebekah said, and made as if to run after.

“Tomorrow,” Mikael replied, starting for the house. “The sun rises soon.”

I watched until Klaus had disappeared into the horizon before following Mikael and the others. A feeling of elation filled me as I stepped past the threshold.

I may not have approved of everything he had done, but Klaus’ plan had worked.

We had done it.

* * *

A week later, Esther came to us. Or, more accurately, to me. I was tending to the hogs at the time. Day or night, the hogs really didn’t care when they were fed.

“Ashley,” she called softly.

I turned and was surprised to see her. She kept a careful distance between us. But I had fed soon after waking and was satiated. I stayed back all the same. “Esther!” I smiled. “Hi!”

She had a small smile for me in return. “I have a request.”

“Name it.”

“Your ring,” she said, nodding towards my hand. “I wish to try a spell upon it.”

At first, I was confused, and then my eyes widened. The lapis lazuli! I lifted my hand and gazed upon it, admiring its dark blue coloring. “The stone that allowed the goddess safe passage.”

A sudden chill had my hair standing on end. Had I subconsciously remembered it was needed for the daylight spell?

Esther nodded. “My thoughts precisely.”

I slid the ring off and held it out for her. “Here.”

Esther approached with caution. I made sure not to move. “My thanks. I shall return it,” she promised.

I watched as she left, wondering where she was staying, hoping she was safe. But then, I supposed Mikael must have known where. He would be watching over her. Whatever his faults, he loved his wife.

When I returned to the house, I told Klaus of his mother’s request.

Naturally, everyone else heard as well. “Oh,” Rebekah said, looking up from darning one of Finn’s tunics, “I do hope that means she is close to figuring out a spell.”

“It sounded like it,” I assured her.

“Not a moment too soon,” Kol replied, cheek in hand as he leaned on the table, swishing a cup full of blood around.

A young woman sat beside him, a cut in her arm. We had sent the other villagers home, with instructions to remember nothing and return in a week, but Kol had yet to send his away.

Elijah fixed him with an unamused look. He’d been doing a lot of that, lately.

Vampirism had seemed to enhance everyone’s personalities. Elijah was becoming fastidious and controlled to the point of fixation. Finn’s disapproval extended towards practically everything. Rebekah was no longer shy about sharing her opinions. Mikael was harsher than ever. Kol pathologically flaunted any authority or rules to do as he pleased.

Klaus’ anger was flaring more and more often, apparently to the point the amulet could not contain all of it. I feared what he would be like without it. But—perhaps triggering his curse would let out some steam, as it were.

At least, I hoped so.

I found myself more anxious about the things to come—but also, more curious about the world around me. I questioned Klaus, Rebekah, and Elijah about their customs and history, far more than I ever had before. I was itching to read again, but there were no books in the village. I toyed with the idea of learning to read and write in their language and writing everything down myself. Sadly, I didn’t know how to make the paper for it.

Come morning, Esther returned to the house with my ring. Braving the den of vampires, she handed it over to me. “Try it, Ashley.”

Slipping it back onto my finger, I wandered to the door of the house and opened it. A thin beam of sunlight entered, forming a thin rectangle of light on the ground. After a moment, I slowly extended my hand towards the beam, fingers twitching.

When my fingertips slid into the sunlight—nothing. Encouraged, I thrust my whole arm into the light’s warmth and grinned over my shoulder at the others. “It works!”

“Thank the gods,” Rebekah sighed.

“How long to make more?” Mikael asked.

Esther frowned. “I can spell Niklaus’ now, but for all of you I shall need more of the stones.” She grimaced at Mikael. “Ayana will no longer speak to me. And Isak must make more rings.”

“Spell Niklaus’ then,” Mikael decided. “He and Ashley shall go to the village and trade for what’s needed.” He stared at Klaus. “Do what you must to convince Ayana to hand over the stones, boy.”

“Yes, father,” Klaus answered, his eyes glinting.

* * *

The feeling of sunshine on our skin after so many nights made us giddy. Klaus laughed. The joyful sound was infectious, and I couldn’t help but join in. He picked me up and whirled me around. “I have never been more grateful to see the sun,” he told me as he set me back down.

But my joy soon deflated into worry. “How are we going to convince Ayana to help us?” Ayana knew we were changed, if not precisely into what. I had a feeling she’d want little to do with all the family now, not just Esther.

He grinned. “With compulsion, of course.”

I shook my head at him. “Klaus, witches can’t be compelled.”

His grin fell and a darker look came over his face.

His expression lightened soon after. “Have no fear,” he said, tilting my chin up. “I shall think of something.” He grinned down at me. “Shall we race to the village?”

A bit of the earlier joy returned. “Eager to be beaten that badly?”

Klaus smirked. “Do not boast before the matter is settled and a victor crowned.”

And with that, he sprinted off down the hill. “HEY! You didn’t say when!” I complained as I hiked up my skirt and sped after.

Klaus beat me by a mere second, demanding a kiss for his prize. I feigned grumping at him before relenting. He grinned playfully at me before taking my hand and leading me into the village.

Once we were past the first houses, I stared down the row to Ayana’s. “What do we do, Klaus?”

Klaus spent several long moments staring at her door. “We cannot compel her,” Klaus said quietly to me. “But we can compel another.”

Brows furrowing together, I looked up at him.

A calculating glint was in his eyes as he smiled. “We let someone else trade for the stones. Ayana need never know their true purpose.”

Realizing how clever a man I married, pride filled me. “That… that could work,” I said, impressed.

Klaus’ smile turned smug. “It _shall_ work.”

We went to the first man we saw, who Klaus knew as Manni. A shorter, dark haired fellow, Manni was brisk with us as he tried to go off on his daily errands. But Klaus’ compulsion ensured he had a change of plans.

Having handed off the furs to trade, we waited between two houses across the field while Manni went off to gather the stones. I fretted the entire time, pacing and wringing my hands, but Klaus merely folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the house, watching Ayana’s door. When Manni stepped back out, sans firs, he grinned with fiendish delight.

As we took a pouch filled with the stones, I thanked Manni, which earned me a look from Klaus. I shrugged. Klaus rolled his eyes before telling Manni to forget what he’d just done and to go about his business. With the stones in hand, we headed off for Isak’s forge.

The huge man was back at work, beating upon some hapless piece of red-hot metal as his son tended the fires. Once he saw us approaching, he let his hammer fall to the anvil and stay there before moving his work over to the water bucket beside it with a great hiss of steam.

Grabbing a linen rag from his leather apron, Isak wiped the sweat off his hands and stepped over to great Klaus. I held my breath as he extended his arm. But Klaus merely smiled and gripped his forearm, and the two shook without issue. “It is good to see you back in the village.” He said genially. “Are you recovered from your illness?”

“Ashley and I are, thank the gods. The others should follow shortly,” Klaus lied smoothly.

“That is good to hear,” Isak said, smiling at us both. “I hope all the family is better soon.”

“Thank you, Isak,” Klaus replied.

The big man tucked his linen rag back into his apron. “What may I do for you?”

“We would like rings made with these,” Klaus answered, pulling out the pouch and tipping it over so that the lapis lazuli stones fell into his palm. “Five, in all.”

Isak picked up a stone and arched a brow. “Done easily enough,” he said, looking up. “But why?”

Klaus stared into his eyes. “Why does not matter.”

“Not that it matters,” Isak said, smiling genially. “I can have them finished within the hour.”

Klaus smirked. “Excellent.”

While we waited, Klaus found and compelled a few more people to visit the house that evening for dinner. Eventually we ended up by the great white oak. Standing beneath, Klaus’ glared up at its branches with narrowed eyes. “The only thing that may end us.”

Enjoying the diamonds of sunlight flitting over us, I turned to watch the villagers. They went on about their business, and a few smiled and waved to us as our gazes met. I waved back, wondering at the fact none of them had any inkling of what was going on. Was it really possible to get away with all this? It seemed too good to be true.

But as I shifted my sights about, I stiffened. A face I would never forget. The feel of his belly pushed against my side. His hand grabbing my arm. Being jerked about as he sought to tear my dress off me.

It was as if my blood had spontaneously caught fire. My hands curled into fists. My fangs were growing and my eyes were darkening—

Klaus’ grabbed my shoulders and moved me so that he stood between me and my view of the village. And the village’s view of me. “Control yourself,” he hissed.

I tried to gulp down several breaths—but the fire kept burning. “It’s him!” I insisted. Klaus’ brows fell but there was no comprehension in his eyes. “Hugin.”

Understanding lit Klaus’ features. He twisted at the waist to look behind, and pinpointed Hugin at once. His lips twisted into a frown as his brows dived into a v that cast a shadow over his eyes.

But his eyes and incisors remained the same as he turned back to me. He cupped my cheek. “Not now.”

He was right. Of course he was. We had important matters to see to. I closed my eyes and breathed in Klaus’ scent until my face relaxed and my fangs retracted.

Klaus gave a hum of approval and kissed my forehead.

I made a point of avoiding the spot where Hugin had stood and watched some of the children trailing the chickens instead. The sight reminded me of Henrik, and the sadness chased away some of the lingering anger. After an hour, Klaus and I returned to Isak and collected five rings from him, their metal bands still warm.

I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder as we walked from the village, keeping at a regular human pace until we were well out of sight. My gaze found Hugin after a few seconds, and the fire began to burn again. I turned back around, staring hard at the path and listening to the sounds of the forest. “I want to kill him,” I confessed.

Instead of expressing horror, Klaus slid a hand over my lower back. “And so you shall.”

It was a promise.


	15. Becoming

We stalked him for three days.

Always out of his sight. When he slipped from ours, we would trace his scent back to him. We learned where he lived, made note of his patterns, and the family’s comings and goings.

We found when he was most vulnerable. Of course, it was as he went to the stream to get water. He always went alone.

Finally came the day when I waited for him. Sitting on top of a large rock at the edge of the bank, shoes and socks off, sun warming the back of my neck, I dipped my foot into the water. I stared as the current rippled over its arch and around my ankle. Occasionally, I’d kick up a splash.

He was late. I heard him approaching well before he finally arrived. My muscles wanted to tense the closer he came, but I remembered what Klaus had told me—he was weak. I was strong. Powerful. I had nothing to fear.

His footsteps cracked through branches and sunk in moss and soft dirt. He pushed aside branches and leaves. Finally, he emerged from the trees and underbrush with empty buckets. Just as he had the first time I’d seen him.

He was surprised to see me. Eyes wide, he stopped uncertainly just beyond the treeline.

I played at not noticing his arrival. A laughable farce if he could only see into my mind, to know how disgustingly conscious I was of him. I wanted him _out_ of my head. I wanted to never have to worry I’d wander across him again.

I wondered if he would walk away or to some different part of the stream. It wouldn’t save him, but I was curious to see if he’d do the smart thing and avoid me.

Hugin, son of Almarr, was not a smart man.

He walked right up to where I sat. “You.” His eyes leisurely roamed my body in as I kept my gaze on the water. He then glanced around. “Where is your husband?”

I turned to stare at Hugin. “Waiting for me.”

Hugin clicked his tongue. “To leave a wife unattended,” he said as I turned away, “welcomes disaster.”

I moved, sliding off the top of the rock till my feet sank into the grass. Hugin watched as I straightened and stared into his brown eyes. “Is that a threat?” I asked, soft and curious.

“It is a fact,” he returned.

“Only because of men like you.” I frowned as he scoffed. Unafraid, he met my eyes. “You’ll follow me.”

“I shall follow you,” he replied before blinking.

“We’d better get going,” I told him as I turned and started walking alongside the bank to the crossing. “We have a long way to go.”

“Where—”

“Somewhere far from the village,” I told him as his footsteps crunched through the grass behind me. His sword clinked as it bounced at his side. “Somewhere secret and safe.”

It took all afternoon to make the trek. It would take time even if I ran, but with Hugin I had to walk at a human pace. I wasn’t about to touch him to carry him. He followed, even after he began to sweat until the back of his tunic was soaked. He had no choice.

The hairs on the back of my neck stayed raised as he shadowed me. I was aware of his every breath, his every heartbeat. Every slap on his skin against the insects that wanted a bite of his flesh.

Finally, we stepped out into a small clearing the size of our house. Hugin, sweaty and tired, looked around, mystified. “Why have you brought me here?”

“Because I want you to know what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone who has none to give.”

He laughed.

I whirled on the ball of my foot and look him in the eye as I said, “Stay right here, in this spot. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” he agreed. He blinked while I glared at him before I turned and walked away.

I walked to the base of a great oak tree. It’s split trunk was easily the width of a wagon, it’s branches spreading far beyond the clearing. Near the back, between two great roots risen out of the earth, lay a pile of chains. Each link was the size of my hand. Isak had worked on them for days.

I took one end and walked it around the massive trunk.

“What are you doing?” he asked, the first stirring of fear in the hesitance of his words and an acrid tinge to his scent.

I walked the other end around the same trunk, but in the opposite direction. “We can’t have him running free,” I explained as I then pulled out the manacles.

“Wouldn’t do to let the big secret out too soon.”

Klaus came out from the woods. His feet were bare like mine as he walked over to the oak.

Now Hugin knew fear. “Niklaus.”

“Hugin.” Klaus replied.

“You mean to kill me?” Hugin asked, his hand hovering over his sword’s handle.

Klaus, unarmed, smiled at the motion. “I do, in fact.”

“Coward,” he spat. He shifted side to side as the compulsion kept him standing in the same spot. “To sneak out in the middle of the woods! Not to settle this amid witnesses like men!”

“I would happily call you out among family and friends, but—” Klaus began pulling his tunic up and over, “why waste a perfectly good kill?”

Hugin looked confused as Klaus then pushed down his pants.

I brought over the collar and, with a glance and a nod from Klaus, clapped it around his neck before fashioning the bolt to keep it closed. I then worked on the manacles for his wrists and ankles.

We had originally timed this to happen a bit sooner, but Hugin’s lateness meant the sun was nearly below the horizon and the full moon was in the sky by the time I finished securing his chains.

“You must change back once the sun rises,” I reminded him as I fixed the final manacle shut. I picked his clothes up and hugged them to my chest.

Klaus nodded and handed me his wedding ring with a kiss. Finally, he lifted his mother’s amulet up and over his head and let it fall into my palm.

I collected all these things and then leapt up into one of the higher branches. I heard Hugin’s sharp inhalation but ignored it. I set Klaus’ clothes down beside me and, turning as I sat, pressed my side against the great trunk.

Klaus stared at Hugin. Hugin glared back. Klaus approached him. Hugin waited just inside the distance Klaus’ chains allowed him.

“I want you to know,” Klaus said, sounding personable, “I could have made this painless.”

Hugin began to draw his sword, but before it could leave its sheath, Klaus’ hand disappeared into his chest. Hugin cried out, grabbing Klaus’ elbow. They stared at one another, Hugin’s eyes wide and round while Klaus’ expression was relaxed, uncaring. Every breath brought a pained huff and a bit of pink spittle from Hugin. True to his word, Klaus waited several seconds before finally yanking out Hugin’s heart.

For a moment, there was only Hugin’s body, falling to the ground.

Then the transformation began.

I tried to watch. For the first few minutes, I made myself watch. His spine snapped back, sending him to the ground. His legs cracked and jerked as the bones jutted different ways beneath his skin. His spine lengthened and curved, vertebrae growing big enough to see under his skin. His muscles pulled taught, tendons flaring, skin flushing. He screamed and cried out, until his throat was raw. But his bones kept breaking and rearranging themselves.

After a time, Klaus threw himself against his chains. I could feel the vibrations of each attempt to free himself through the wood. When the sky was fully dark and the moon was near its zenith, he became more animal than man. His mouth had refashioned, lengthened into a muzzle, and his eyes turned a bright, blazing yellow.

When all was finished, a blonde wolf stood beneath the tree. Klaus growled as he pulled against the chains, before sniffing Hugin’s corpse. After grabbing his leg and dragging him back, he began to feed.

I looked away as he tore through skin and muscle and crunched through bone. It was one way of getting rid of the body, I supposed.

When Klaus was done with Hugin, he turned up to the tree. He smelled me, I realized. He growled and leapt up, trying to climb the trunk. For a moment, I worried he might be able to reach me, but his claws couldn’t pierce the bark. Every time he jumped up, he would slide back down.

I stayed with him through the night, though he continually tried to reach me. In a way, it was good. It kept him from wresting at his chains. Even so, it was not a fun night. Watching a yellow-eyed wolf snarling and growling, snapping jaws sending spittle flying, continue to leap and scramble up a tree to eat me wasn’t exactly an activity I’d pick for couple’s night.

But I wouldn’t leave him.

Finally, the sun rose. Klaus did not change back at once. He circled the tree several times before laying down and resting. He stayed in wolf form, sleeping, for several hours.

Eventually, he began shifting back. It looked just as painful as the first time but didn’t last nearly as long. When he was human again, Klaus pushed himself up, gazing around him, expression lightened with wonder.

I took his clothes in hand and leapt down.

Klaus whirled about and wrapped his arms around me, flashing a devastatingly handsome grin before bending forward and kissing me. It was not an innocent kiss. He was ardent, pulling me against him before backing us both into the tree trunk. His intention was clear, even before his hands ran over me.

I allowed myself to be swept away.

* * *

Klaus replaced the amulet his mother had given him with a replica. Esther seemed not to notice. Eventually she returned to the house, and we began to feed out in the woods. The others discovered they could still eat regular food, and Esther took up her cooking duties again while Rebekah and I helped.

Hugin’s disappearance joined with a few other villagers who became victims to our family’s hunger. Kol was the one most inclined to overindulge, but everyone had accidents.

Including me.

I didn’t know his name at the time. I only knew he’d been coming to the woods outside the village regularly for several months. Klaus, who I’d come to rely on to warn me if I were losing myself, had gotten into an argument with Kol. A pointless argument whose subject no one would later remember. I didn’t realize the man’s heart had stopped. I didn’t realize anything was wrong until there was no more blood to drink.

His name was Halfdan, and he’d had a wife and three children.

My heart had beat hard enough for both of us when I’d realized what I had done. A horrified cry escaped me, drawing the other’s attention. My ears had buzzed, and my stomach roiled with the blood I’d just taken. I’d stumbled back as I’d dropped him, dead, to the ground.

I remember Kol’s droll comment, as a blonde woman hung limply in his arms. “What’s it to be, Ashley? Illness? Animal? Unmarked grave?”

I’d screamed into my hands.

Klaus had glared at Kol before taking me into his arms and reassuring me that it was alright. These things happened. We would make it look as if a bear had gotten him.

No one had condemned me. Except for myself.

Halfdan’s face—strong jawed with thick brows and high cheekbones, light blonde hair and a scar over one eyebrow—would be the first to haunt my dreams.

* * *

It was nearly a year since my arrival. Spring warmed into Summer, the birds returned to sing, the first of the garden began to bloom, and the forest teamed with life. As did the stream, which was where I found Elijah one day early in June.

He had a crude pole with a thick string of catgut attached pointed at the water. Relaxing on the bank, he seemed content to watch the fish swim by his hook. “You realize you could grab them right out of the water,” I pointed out, amused at the picture of prim, proper Elijah lounging in the grass with a fishing pole. All he was missing was a six pack.

Elijah looked over and treated me to his small smile. “This is the way I have done it since I was a boy.” He gazed back into the waters. “And the fish deserve a chance.”

“Seems as if their chances are pretty good,” I pointed out as I sat down beside him. “Unless you’re hiding your haul somewhere.”

“Sadly not,” Elijah sighed. “They are as wily as Loki himself today.”

A companionable silence fell between us. As the stream burbled in front of us, a frog croaked somewhere downstream. To either side of the bank, the trees creaked and rustled. My enhanced vision saw birds picking berries off a wild blackberry bush further in the woods. The sunlight felt fabulously warm.

“Can I ask you something?” I wondered.

Elijah glanced over. “Of course.”

“You haven’t spent any time with Tatia since—” I grimaced. “Since we turned.”

Elijah turned back to the stream. He watched the rippling currents. “It is not safe, Ashley.” His gaze slid to me. “As you well know.”

“We manage around Esther well enough,” I retorted, twisting towards him

Elijah shook his head. “Even mother makes me nervous.” He swallowed before admitting, “Sometimes, it feels as if a great beast resides within me, waiting.”

I thought for a time. “What if… we made Tatia like us?”

But Elijah sat up, brows lowered over his eyes. “No.” His jaw flared before he added, “I could never do such a thing to her.”

“Because we’re monsters now,” I murmured.

Elijah said nothing, just stared at the water.

I stared out with him. “I’m sorry.”

“It was not your doing,” he replied.

I had to close my eyes. I swallowed, but the guilt stuck and wouldn’t be pushed down and away. So I stayed silent, joining Elijah in watching the water rushing down the stream.

He caught no fish that afternoon.

* * *

Fate is a strange, persistent thing. At best delayed. Never denied.

The day fate caught up to us was late June. The night was hot despite the sun having set an hour before. We travelled to the edge of the woods outside the village, anticipating the return of several men and women to feed on. Fireflies danced amid the bushes and across the field, their small yellow lights winking in the darkness while we waited.

It was a simple practice. We compelled different villagers to come to the treeline where we would meet them. They came confused, but that bewilderment didn’t keep them from walking to the edge of the woods where they waited. We wouldn’t risk torches, so we stayed relatively close to the village to ensure the humans wouldn’t trip and fall. Often, we ventured no deeper than a few trees in. We would tell them to be quiet and then feed.

The night started the same as any other. Each of us waited for our villager to arrive. It wasn’t until Kol’s stepped up to the trees that we had the first inkling that something was wrong. Her blood and sweat carried an acrid scent I had come to associate with fear.

Kol went out to meet her. No sooner had he stepped past the trees than something came whistling from the village.

Kol jerked back with a gasp. As he turned, he revealed an arrow sticking out of his chest. He looked down, grimacing, before taking hold and ripping it out, grunting through clenched teeth as he did so. But before we could properly process what had happened, several more whistles zipped through the air.

Kol cried out as he was pierced by four arrows. I gasped as he fell to his knees, confusion in the pinch of his brows before dark veins crawled up his neck as his skin greyed. Soon, he toppled forward and pitched facedown onto the ground.

The girl—the lure—turned and ran back for the houses.

“Kol!” Elijah shouted, before dashing through the trees. Another wave of arrows came sailing through the air. Elijah caught one of them, snapping it in half before racing to Kol’s body and picking it up.

A dozen men came around the house with torches, swords, axes, and hammers in hand. Their faces were covered in slashes of white or blue paint. Some were armored in steel, others in leathers. The let out a loud war cry as they stormed towards Elijah.

Klaus swore before hurrying forward to Elijah and the fallen Kol. Mikael and Finn followed soon after. Rebekah and I exchanged wide-eyed looks, unsure what we should do.

But we weren’t needed. Elijah, Finn, Klaus, and Mikael tore through the villagers in minutes. Mikael caught the blade of an axe and yanked it out of the other man’s hold, and then began beheading anyone who was foolish enough to come within reach. Finn got hold of a dagger someone had attempted stabbing him with and was jabbing it into necks and chests. Elijah and Klaus didn’t bother with weapons. Klaus ripped out throats with his fangs while Elijah punched through chests and tore out hearts.

It was over in a matter of minutes. Bodies lay across the ground. The men were covered in blood. Before we could process what had happened, another arrow was fired from the nearest house. This one caught Finn in the arm. He grunted as he yanked it free, glaring up at the roof. He made to run over to the archer when Mikael grabbed his arm. “No. We must take Kol home.”

Finn ground his teeth before nodding. Elijah picked up Kol and then they ran back into the woods, meeting up with Rebekah and I.

We ran as fast as we could back to the house.

As we burst through the door, Esther stood up from the table. “What—” her words cut short at the sight of Kol lying unmoving in Elijah’s arms. Her eyes rounded as she paled.

“He has not moved,” Finn explained as Elijah laid Kol on the table.

“What happened?” Esther’s hands fluttered above Kol’s chest and the arrow sticking out of it.

“The villagers know,” Mikael growled as he tossed the blood-drenched axe onto the ground to a clang. “They set a trap for us.”

“Kol was struck several times,” Elijah went on.

“It is in his heart,” Esther said, grimacing as she grabbed the end of the arrow and pulled it free.

Rebekah gripped her hands. “He’s not… he’s not dead, is he?”

It was an understandable question. Kol’s skin was grey and sunken, his veins were black and visible under his skin. He lay utterly still as if dead.

But within a minute of the arrow’s removal, the veins began to recede, and his skin became flushed with color. A general sense of relief spread through the room as Kol opened his eyes. He frowned. “What happened?”

“You took an arrow to the heart,” Elijah told him.

Kol rolled off the tabletop, slowly straightening to his feet. He looked down at his tunic, plucking it away from his chest to view the holes. “Bastards.”

Klaus turned to Esther. “Mother.” As soon as her sights touched his, he asked, “What did you use to spell our immortality?”

“The great white oak,” she replied. After a moment, the light of realization brightened her eyes and lifted her expression. “Wood, piercing the heart, must counteract the magic keeping you alive.”

“Then perhaps wood from the tree you called upon for our immortality would have a more permanent effect,” Klaus suggested grimly.

“It is possible,” she agreed.

“Then we must destroy it,” Mikael said.

“How did they know?” Kol wondered as he rubbed at his chest. At everyone’s glance, he clarified, “The villagers. How did they know?”

“The compulsion must have failed.” Elijah had his hands in the wash basin, rinsing the blood off.

“Or it has some weakness,” I hinted. Klaus and I shared a glance.

“Now that the villagers know, what are we to do?” Rebekah gripped her skirts, sights moving between all of us.

Mikael and Esther exchanged a look. Esther’s face fell as Mikael’s hardened. “We must leave,” Mikael declared.

Dismayed silence fell over us. “What?” Rebekah whispered. “Leave?”

“We cannot stay,” Mikael replied, moving off towards a chest filled with furs and the family’s more expensive treasures.

“Why? Because of the villagers?” Kol demanded as Elijah, Finn, and Klaus moved to begin packing. He looked around, meeting each of us in the eye. “Why not just kill them?”

“Aside from the fact that is monstrous?” Elijah countered dryly. At Kol’s narrowed-eyed glare, Elijah said, “What would we eat, Kol?”

Kol frowned before moving towards his own pack.

Rebekah’s eyes watered as she moved to help Esther and I with the pots, herbs, and salted meats. We could go without food, but Esther needed provisions.

“Where shall we go, father?” Finn asked.

“We cannot stay in this land,” Mikael said, collecting their arrows. “We must return to the lands we came from, where we may disappear amid the large villages and cities.”

“Cross the great sea?” Elijah asked, lips turned down as he wrapped several jars of oil in fur pelts.

“Yes.”

“How?” I wondered.

Mikael glanced at me before looking back to his task. “The ships we used to sail to these lands were never destroyed. They lie hidden by the coast.”

“We’re taking viking longships?” I said, reverting to English at the end in my surprise.

I received several puzzled looks before I shook my head and turned back to helping Rebekah and Esther.

Mikael left the task of finishing the packing to us while he, Klaus, Elijah, Finn, and Kol went to burn the great white oak to the ground. They were gone an hour. Time enough to finish packing the bulk of the goods we decided to take with us. It was not even a fourth of what the family owned.

Rebekah and I were letting out the hogs and chickens when the men came back. Drenched in more blood.

“What—”

“We must leave now,” Mikael said briskly as we all hurried to the house. “They are coming.”

Everyone took what they could carry, which for us was quite a lot. Loaded with fur-wrapped and wool-wrapped bundles tied to our backs and chests, we disappeared into the woods after Mikael hours before the sun was due to rise.

Once the sun had risen, pinkening the sky, smoke soared to the clouds behind us from the home we had just left.

There would be no going back.


	16. Sleeping Beauty

No matter how far we ran, fate was always waiting. You would think we’d have learnt better after our first attempt to avoid it was routed.

But Klaus is nothing if not stubborn.

And I am a fool.

Opening my eyes, I found Elijah’s familiar face staring down at me, an intensity in his eyes that was tightly reigned throughout his otherwise impeccably controlled expression. My sights wandered to his hair. Short. Very short—not more than a few inches. My gaze roamed further, taking in his dark suit.

“Elijah,” I murmured, moving my hands from the crossed position they’d been settled into over my chest.

“Ashley,” he said, a world of emotion in that one word.

I was a bit afraid to hear so much that usually went unsaid leaking into his voice. My eyes darted around him, seeking Klaus. But the only other I saw was a man with silvery blue eyes and a handsome face, dressed in a leather jacket. He looked familiar to me, though I was sure I’d never met him before.

Their clothes. Their hair. They were…

They were from a different century all together.

The last memory I had before waking suddenly sprung to the forefront of my mind. Klaus—taken with rage. His eyes, burning with betrayal, swam with tears as he shouted the vilest of accusations. Paranoia deafening his ears to my denials. Crossing the distance between us and gripping my hair.

A sharp pain in my chest. Going weak, slipping into unconsciousness.

“How long?” I asked.

Elijah frowned as his jaw flared before he settled into a restrained mien. “Two centuries.”

A cold steel trap closed over my mind. Two hundred years. Two hundred years!

I looked about, saw the white satin lining of a coffin lid as it had been lifted. I looked down, to my peach silk dress cut in the latest French style, its silhouette influenced by the ancient romans. A gift from the Duchess of Orléans.

“Another one of Klaus’ sisters?” the man asked Elijah.

Elijah slid his gaze to him. “No.” He bent forward and slid his arms beneath my back and knees, lifting me out of my coffin.

As he set me on my feet, he turned to the man. “Damon Salvatore, may I present Ashley Mikaelson.” Elijah turned to me and met my gaze. “Niklaus’ wife.”

* * *

**1015 A.D.  
Domfront Castle, Duchy of Normandy**

The stone corridor was awash in blood and bodies.

Skirts in hand, I raced through the carnage, doing my best not to look at the servants crumpled against the walls. Coming to a junction, the bodies of the guards had been cast all over. Following the screams, I ran to the staircase that led down to the dungeons.

The torches were lit, and firelight danced along the stonework of the walls. The temperature fell the lower I stepped. The damp air was laden with the foul odors of rats and human waste. Tortured screams echoed up the stairwell.

At the bottom, more dead guards lay prone across the floor in pools of blood. Uncaring, my velvet slippers stepped into the puddles, leaving footprints in my wake as I raced down the long stretch of stone. To either side were cells, iron bars revealing dark rooms covered in straw and waste, the remnants of misery. Occasionally there was a man of skin and bones cowering in a corner, covering his ears.

But my sights were for the door at the end of the long, damned run.

I burst through the heavy wooden door and its iron hinges—

Only to be grabbed by Mikael.

A bloodied Klaus hung in the middle of a large stone room, dark but for the light of a few torches. Implements of torture sat all around—a wooden table with wheels at all corners, and loops of ropes designed to fit around hands and feet to stretch out arms and legs. Another table with what looked like a thin metal spit over the top, the better to unspool intestines. An iron casket filled with spikes. A chair with cuffs complete with screws. Saws. Pincers. Knives.

Chains stretched from the ceiling, holding both of Klaus’ wrists up. More manacles clamped around his ankles. His eyes burned yellow, the whites turned black with blood, and he howled in fury and fear as a circle of blood, candles, and herbs had been drawn around him. Behind him, in a long brown robe, Esther’s apprentice, Francis, chanted in a language known only to witches.

“Do not interfere, girl!” Mikael demanded into my ear. His arms were clamped around my waist, too strong to break. Mikael had always been the strongest of us all.

Except Klaus.

But Klaus jerked against the chains that held him up to no avail. I smelt no burning flesh, a tell-tale sign of vervain. They must have been spelled.

“I shall kill all of you!” Klaus swore in a fearsome roar. He turned his head as far as he could to look over his shoulders. “Do you hear me, witch?! You shall not live to see the day!”

Francis did not look up from his grimoire as he continued to chant.

“Father!” Klaus appealed, turned to Mikael.

“Do not call me such!” Mikael yelled. “Abomination!”

Klaus flinched as if struck.

“You shall answer for her death,” Mikael swore in a growling rumble.

Klaus, tendons in his neck standing out as he strained again against his bonds, ended up screaming, “You are the one who slaughtered her, not I!”

Mikael threw me aside, and I smacked against the wall. His sword sang as it slid from his sheath. In several long strides, he came upon Klaus. Drawing his arm back, he thrust his sword forward through Klaus’ belly.

I screamed along with Klaus.

“Bide my words, _boy_ ,” Mikael swore, “I shall find a way to end you.”

Tear tracks gleaming in the firelight, Klaus met Mikael’s stare. Slowly, the yellow glow bled from his eyes, until there was only stormy blue.

Francis shut his grimoire. “It is done.”

* * *

Eyes burning with emotion, Klaus’ stare was unblinking. His head shook slowly, momentarily stunned into stillness in Kol’s hold. “Ashley,” he breathed.

My skirts fluttered around my ankles as I passed Damon and his brother—whose name escaped me.

Finn held a dagger out to me. I took it in hand before stepping up to Klaus. His stare flickered towards the dagger before returning to my face, brows dropping as his expression hardened. “Ashley,” he warned, eyes flashing with anger.

He grunted as I shoved the blade into a lung. “Two hundred years.”

Klaus growled a little as he breathed out and met my furious stare. When I pulled the dagger free, with only a slight scrape along his ribs, he took a deeper breath and said, “Don’t act so innocent.”

I stabbed him again, this time in the kidney. If looks could kill, Klaus’ would have struck me down. Painfully.

“You’re free to go,” Elijah said to the Salvatore brothers as they watched from the sidelines. A little smile lifted the corners of Elijah’s lips as he added, “This is family business.”

The two younger vampires exited, ignoring a wide-eyed Klaus as they left. Once the door had shut, I pulled the dagger free, ignoring Klaus’ glare.

Elijah pulled a chair out from a mahogany dining table, and Kol forced Klaus to sit. I retrieved a glass of wine from the table, examining the dagger in my other hand. The blood that clung to its blade winked in the light from the fireplace. I sipped from my glass and reclined on a nearby leather sofa’s armrest.

I couldn’t help but notice Rebekah’s form-fitting red dress as she circled the room like a stalking panther. “I like what you’ve done with the new place, Nik.” She picked up a glass vase and threw it into a painting.

Finn plucked another glass up and drank deeply. I knew the feeling. My throat was parched.

Klaus stared at the floor. “I wanted it to be for all of us. A place we could all call home. A place we could all be a family.” He looked up, entreating. “None of us would ever have to be alone again.”

Elijah met Klaus’ gaze. “Oh, you’re right.” His eyes took in the rest of us before he began walking away. “None of us will be.”

Kol, his own glass in hand, trailed after.

Finn added, “You’re staying behind,” as he followed Elijah and Kol. I stood and joined them at the other end of the room, leading to the foyer and the front door beyond.

Rebekah took particular pleasure as she told Klaus, “We’re leaving you, Nik. Right after I kill that Doppelgänger wench.” Klaus swallowed as Rebekah added, “And you will be alone.”

Heart heavy with betrayal, I added, “Always and forever.”

Klaus glanced at me before a snarl took his lips. “You run. I will hunt all of you down,” Klaus swore with a vicious glare.

Elijah shook his head as he turned to face Klaus, “And then you’ll become everything you hate. Our father.”

Klaus’ temper overtook him as he bared his teeth and screamed, “I’m the hybrid! I can’t be killed!” He pointed at all of us. “I have nothing to fear from any of you!”

“You will when we have that coffin,” Elijah retorted.

The two glared spitefully at one another, tears appearing in the corner of Klaus’ eyes.

The opening of the front door broke their stares as we all turned towards the newcomer.

My jaw dropped, lips parting into a small ‘o’ of surprise as a woman I had not seen for centuries walked up to us. Klaus began gasping as if he could not breathe. We were all stunned as Esther’s gaze touched us one by one.

“Mother?” Rebekah asked.

Esther said nothing as she stepped between the five of us to approach Klaus. Klaus sucked down a deep breath, head bowing as if he could not bear to look at her.

“Look at me,” Esther demanded.

Tears running down Klaus’ cheeks, he managed to raise his gaze.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Esther asked.

“You’re here to kill me,” Klaus whispered.

“Niklaus, you are my son,” she said firmly. “And I am here to forgive you.” While Klaus looked on, stunned, Esther turned and looked to all of us. “I want us to be a family again.”

A tendril of dread wound its way down my spine.

* * *

The last few days had been—tense. I had avoided the others, preferring to stay in the room I’d been provided. Someone would be sent to me to feed on, and then I would send them back. At some point during my first morning, a more modern style of dress had been sent to my room. Otherwise, they left me be.

That changed on the fourth day. At a knock on my door, I was surprised to find Finn on the other side. He was out of his Renaissance garb and his hair had been cut short. “Mother’s holding a ball tonight.”

Brows pulled taut together, I grabbed the edge of the door and stared. Something about this was familiar—but I couldn’t put my finger on what. “A ball?”

“Yes.” Finn smiled. “She’d like you to come down and join us for the evening’s preparations.”

“And will _he_ be there?”

“He’s out at the moment,” Finn assured me. When I didn’t immediately respond, Finn added, “Mother worries about you. It would ease her mind to see you out of your room.” He gave me a small smile. “Mingling with the rest of us.”

Again, that pit in my stomach opened, as it did whenever I thought about Esther’s resurrection. Something about it seemed so familiar—it had to be connected to the show, but time had dulled my recollections.

“Very well,” I acceded.

Finn motioned towards the hallway and I walked out of the sanctuary of my room to join him.

He led me down the stairs and to another great sitting room. Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah were already within, along with several humans. Racks of clothing stood by the window. Elijah and Kol were trying on various suit jackets while human men who must have been tailors began marking various pieces of clothing for alterations. Rebekah sat on a leather sofa, a human painting her fingernails.

“Ah, she emerges at last,” Kol remarked as I stepped past the threshold. He smirked. “Trust a good ball to bring Ashley out of her snit.”

“Snit?” I frowned.

“Why don’t you find something to wear for tonight,” Finn said, leading me away from a still smirking Kol towards a rack of dresses.

“Think she’ll manage by herself? Without all her handmaidens to dote on her?” Kol added.

“Kol,” Elijah warned.

Ignoring Kol, I took in the fifty or so dresses hanging from the rack. My memory itched at me again, of long forgotten admirings for various pictures I’d seen on the internet. Flicking through the first few dresses, I frowned. I had grown used to one-of-a-kind dresses being hand sewn for my wardrobe. These were already pre-made, and there were likely hundreds like them.

And having gone through so many centuries with an ankle-length hemline, I balked at some of the short cuts on display.

“Rebekah,” Kol began as he stared into a full-length mirror, “Tell me how handsome I am.”

“Ah, Kol,” Rebekah answered as she examined her nails. “You know I can’t be compelled.”

Before I could get more than halfway through the rack, the front door opened. The footsteps striding towards the room were brisk, and I thought I detected a note of anger in them. So I was unsurprised when Klaus burst through the door. “You went after Elena?” he said, striding to Rebekah. “What is wrong with you?”

Rebekah settled into the sofa with a half-smile. “Here we go.”

Klaus squared his shoulders as he loomed over her. “Do you want another dagger in your heart?”

Kol sat on a side table. “Again with the dagger threats?” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t you have any other tricks?”

I flicked through to another dress on the rack. “He’s nothing if not predictable.”

Klaus turned to Kol. “Oh, go back to staring at yourself.” As he had done since the night I’d awoken, I was ignored as if I weren’t even present.

Kol’s eyes darkened. “And who are you, my father?”

Klaus whipped about again. “No, Kol, but you’re in my house,” he warned as he stepped closer.

Kol stood up and got into Klaus’ space. “Then perhaps we should go outside.”

The two stared each other down.

Esther stepped in from a side room. “Enough!” Folding her arms before her, she fixed her sights on Klaus. “Niklaus, come.” Turning, she stepped further into the room, clearly expecting Klaus to follow.

He did, Kol smirking as he walked away.

I could hear Klaus whining to Esther the moment he stepped into her office. I sighed and did my best to tune him out. Finally, I plucked a random dress off the rack—an ankle length golden gown that would lay snug against my figure—and tossed it over my shoulder. “It’s a little crowded down here,” I announced before moving off towards the stairs and my room.

“Wait.” I halted at Rebekah’s voice. She strode over to me, lifting the dress and holding it out to a human, who took it and carried it off. “Want to get out for a bit?”

* * *

In the time since she’d been awakened before me, Rebekah had apparently learned how to drive. We took a black convertible down to the heart of Mystic Falls, where the buildings were all red bricked and quaint. A clocktower rose from the heart of the town square and watched over the rest of downtown. Parking next to a meter, we got out and walked half a block to a building with a large brown awning. I marveled at the cars driving down the road as I followed Rebekah.

The awning proclaimed the place to be the Mystic Grill. As soon as Rebekah pulled open the door, I was assaulted with modern music and the smell of grilled beef, deep-fried potatoes and onions, and what I would come to learn was soda. I wrinkled my nose slightly before following her past the wooden counters where the register lay deeper into the establishment. Small square tables were set up on a higher level, while booths separated them from a long bar in the back. Another side room featured a pool table.

Stepping around, I kept waiting for a sense of nostalgia to overtake me. This was my time, if not my world, after all. And yet, all I felt was alienation.

“Oh, my,” Rebekah said, regaining my attention. Chin dropping and eyes narrowing, Rebekah stalked towards a particular table.

I followed, and was stunned to see Katerina and another blonde seated… but, no. No that wasn’t Katerina.

“Careful Caroline,” Rebekah warned, interrupting their conversation. “It’s all well and good till she stabs you in the back.”

The latest doppelgänger asked, “What are you doing here?” with a cursory glance at me as I stepped up to join Rebekah.

But I noticed the blonde across from her, and something ugly within me stirred. I knew her too… how?

The doppelgänger went on, “I know your mom’s rules. No hurting the locals.”

“Get over yourself, Elena,” Rebekah smoothly countered, reminding me of the doppelgänger’s name. “It’s not all about you,” she added before turning and walking away.

“Give me a moment,” Rebekah said to me before heading for a tall, well-built blonde in an apron and carrying a tray filled with dishes.

Uncertain what to do, I glanced at the table with the doppelgänger and the blonde—both watching Rebekah—before striding for the bar. That peculiar sensation of anger smoldering in my veins, and impatience, kept itching at me every time I stared at the blonde. Sitting at the bar, I realized it was jealousy.

Fantastic.

I sighed, waiting for the bartender and ordering a bottle of brandy and a glass. He gave me a side-eyed glance before delivering. Uncaring of the time of day, I unscrewed the top and poured a generous helping before tipping it back and draining it all in one go.

I wondered what it said about me that I was still capable of feeling jealous. The man had put a dagger in my heart and kept me in a box for two hundred years.

Rebekah secured her date for the evening and was pleased as she strode back to where I sat waiting, at the bar. “Starting already, I see.”

I gave a short hum, tipping more brandy into the glass.

She eyed me. “Who shall you be going with?”

I grimaced as I let my glass fall to the table with a clink and turned to meet Rebekah’s gaze. “You ask that as if I have a choice.”

She stared down at me with judgement in her eyes. “Given your feelings for Elijah—”

The glass in my hand shattered, covering me with glass and brandy. I stood, staring Rebekah down. “What are you implying, exactly?”

Rebekah’s eyes narrowed. “You know _exactly_ what I’m implying.”

“I have _not_ been unfaithful,” I retorted through clenched teeth.

Rebekah stared into my eyes for so long, I thought she’d try compelling the truth from me. “So you say.”

“Think whatever you want, Rebekah,” I said, harsh and angry. “But do me a favor.” I grabbed the bottle of brandy. “Keep those thoughts to yourself.”

I walked the rest of the way back to the mansion. By the time I arrived, the bottle was gone.

* * *

I hadn’t taken two steps within the front door before Esther popped up out of the sitting room. “Ashley.”

Cautious, I turned to meet her smile with a frown. “Esther.”

“I’d like to speak to you,” she said before turning about on her heels and walking back towards her study.

Grimacing, I set the empty bottle of brandy down on a side table and followed my long-dead mother-in-law to her study. I stepped inside to find Finn already there. He shut the door behind me.

Another finger of foreboding slid down the back of my neck, raising the fine hairs there. I eyed Finn before turning to Esther, who was standing behind a desk. “What did you want to speak about?”

“I cannot help but notice your recent troubles with Niklaus,” she said, meeting my eyes. Something in her gaze remained… distant. Different from the Esther I remembered.

I still frowned. “He stuck a dagger in my heart and put me in a coffin for two hundred years. So, yeah. Things are strained.”

Esther exchanged a look with Finn before rounding the desk to stand before me. “I watched you both from the other side, you know.” She began. I blinked. “You told Niklaus far more about where you were from then you did the rest of us. Is that not so?”

My heart began to pound. “Esther—”

“I am not judging,” she smoothly interrupted. “I only mean to say—I know you somehow have knowledge of what’s to come.”

I grimaced. “Not necessarily.” At her raised brow, I admitted, “No matter what we tried to do to avoid certain fates, some are just—unavoidable.”

Esther laid a hand on my arm. I glanced at it before looking back up into those cold eyes. “Then you know my plan for tonight.”

My brows furrowed together. Plan? Was that why I kept having such a bad feeling?

“And you know it must be done,” she went on firmly.

The tickle in the back of my mind became more insistent. I dove into my human memories, seeking the foggy recollection of a television show I’d watched ages upon ages ago. Esther—she’d been a villain. I remembered that much. Why?

My eyes rounded. “You mean to kill us,” I whispered, horrified. More details surfaced. “You want to link us through the doppelgänger’s blood and then,” I turned to Finn, boggling at him.

“You cannot be happy, Ashley,” Esther said, drawing my attention momentarily back to her.

Finn crossed the room until he was looming above me from behind.

“Say nothing to Niklaus.” Esther went on, stare intense. “That is all you need do.”

“Your spell would kill me, as well,” I reminded her.

“What kind of life is this?” Finn asked, voice laden with derision.

“The only one I have,” I retorted. I moved back, looking between them. “I’ve finally made it back to a time I find familiar. I’m not about to—”

Agony. A headache to end all headaches. As if my brain had exploded inside my skull. I couldn’t even make a sound I was so overcome with pain as I began sinking to the floor.

Finn caught me. I managed to squint up at Esther, saw her concentrating on me as my skull felt as if it would burst apart from the pressure building inside it.

It was a relief when all was dark again.

* * *

When I came to, I was staring up at Klaus’ face. He arched a brow. “One might think you enjoy sleeping in coffins.”

I slapped the hand he offered away before awkwardly clambering my way out. “The ball. It was a trap.”

“Yes,” Klaus replied. “Elijah managed to pry the truth from my doppelgänger.” I realized this was the most he’d said to me since I’d been awakened. And he had more. “Its been taken care of.” His lips fell as his eyes sent more accusations at me. “Why did you not warn me of mother’s plot?” he asked quietly.

I glowered. “It’s been eight-hundred years, Klaus,” I shot back. “I didn’t remember.”

“Well, love,” he said, eyes flashing threateningly. “I suggest you work on your memory.”

I glared up at him. “ _Don’t_ threaten me.”

We ended up staring each other down. After several moments of it, sick of his and everyone else’s attitude, I strode away. I’d been stored in the basement, I realized as I found my way to a staircase and stomped back up.

It took a couple of turns down a few hallways before I found the front door and made to leave.

Suddenly, Klaus’ hand gripped my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

“Away from _you_.” I yanked my arm from his grip.

But Klaus pulled me back. “No. Unless you’re looking to be daggered again?” His eyes were bright with fury as he stared down at me.

I could feel tears building in mine as I quietly glared back.

“Go to your room,” he ordered, shoving me towards the stairs.

Sucking down a breath, I realized I had little choice but to obey unless I wanted to end up back in a coffin. I turned and made for the staircase. But as I climbed, the sense of hurt and betrayal gave way to anger, and by the time I closed the door to my room, I couldn’t remember hating anyone as intensely as I hated _him_.


	17. Villains

“Stop sulking.”

I glared at my new copy of Lord of the Rings, as if it had spoken to me instead of a certain blonde.

Rebekah rolled her eyes before stepping into my room. She went for my closet, frowning soon after opening it and finding it empty except for the golden gown I hadn’t had a chance to wear. “We really must get you more clothes,” she mused.

I turned on my side and glared harder at the words on the page without seeing them.

She then strode to the window beyond a pair of opaque cream curtains and lifted the pane, letting fresh air flow into the room. “You know,” she said before shifting towards me, folding her arms and glaring herself, “there are important matters I need to see to.” She paused before adding, “Matters that would be easier with your help.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Fine,” she said, hands collapsing to her side before she marched back for the door. “If you’re determined to spend all your time pouting instead of doing something useful,” she said, letting the rest go unsaid.

“He won’t let me leave,” I snapped, book falling away with a thud against the bed covers.

Rebekah sent me a look over her shoulder. “He won’t let you leave _him_. He won’t care if you leave the room.” She raised a brow. “Besides, Nik isn’t even here right now.”

I sat up. “What?”

“He’s gone after Finn.” Rebekah leaned against the doorframe. “And Elijah’s off somewhere, having some sort of existential crisis,” she muttered before narrowing her gaze. “So you’re all I’ve got.”

I sent her an unimpressed look. “Thanks.”

Rebekah straightened. “Pick out something from my closet and get ready for a meeting with the Mayor. We’ve got a tree to find.”

As she disappeared into the hall, my brows fell.

A tree?

* * *

Once I’d grabbed a simple dark shirt and jeans from Rebekah’s closet, she drove the two of us back to the Mystic Grill. After introducing me, Rebekah spent the time between ordering and receiving our coffees to buttering up Mayor Lockwood. I sat beside the two of them, smiling at various points before sipping at my espresso while Rebekah asked after logging records.

Halfway through, the Salvatore brothers walked in. Damon making a rude comment about Rebekah before the two made their way bar.

Naturally, it was at that moment that the Mayor revealed to Rebekah that the Salvatore family kept all the milling records.

Rebekah made some excuses and then, taking my arm, pulled me towards the two brothers. We approached just in time to hear Damon say, “At least in nineteen twelve they killed a Salvatore.”

“Which Salvatore would that be?” Rebekah wondered before smiling at the pair.

She squeezed my arm, prompting a forced small smile from me before leading me to the bar. I took a seat beside Rebekah, leaving her next to Stefan with Damon to his other side.

“A long dead nephew,” Damon replied with an insincere grin that failed to crinkle his eyes.

Rebekah tilted her head and a wealth of long blonde hair shifted over her shoulder. “Would he have been involved in the logging business of the time?”

Damon and Stefan both stared at her, suspicion lowering Stefan’s thick brows while Damon’s eyes narrowed. I barely managed to keep from rolling mine.

“Why would you care about that?” Stefan wondered.

Rebekah shrugged before motioning towards the bar tender. “Whiskey and brandy,” she ordered as soon as he was near enough to be compelled. As he set the bottles and glasses onto the bar, she smiled and turned back to the brothers. “Curiosity about the town’s recent history, is all.”

They both eyed her before returning to their respective drinks. I sipped at my glass of brandy as Rebekah took a deep draught of her whiskey. “So what was this nephew’s name?” she asked.

“You know you don't have to disguise your true motives Blondie-Bex. If you want more sex, just ask for it.” Damon brought his glass back to his mouth.

Grimacing into my own drink, I glanced at her. “I see your taste hasn’t improved.” You’d think she would have learned after the fiasco with the hunter. But, alas, if there was one constant about Rebekah, it was her tragic taste in men.

“I think plenty could be said about yours, missus evil,” came Damon’s smooth response, complete with smirk.

I arched a brow. “And I suppose you’re an upstanding, virtuous pillar of the community?”

“Ugh, _no_.” He grimaced into his glass. “Sounds boring.”

I curled my lips into a small, utterly sarcastic smile. “Glass houses.”

“Besides, there’s not enough liquor in the world,” Rebekah added pointedly.

Damon’s attention focused back on Rebekah as he leaned forward to stare at her around Stefan. “Oh, come on, it was too good for you to be this hostile.”

Stefan, mouth pressed firmly shut, grabbed his bottle and glass and moved around to the other side of Damon.

Damon leaned forward on the bar. “You'll have to excuse my little brother, he's jonesing for some O positive.”

Another detail from the show that had slowly surfaced from the depths of my mind. Stefan was a Ripper, hopelessly addicted to human blood. Lost all control at the smallest sip. It was one of the things Klaus had liked best about him.

“I'm not jonesing,” Stefan defended.

Rebekah slid into Stefan’s abandoned seat besides Damon. I slid my glass over before moving to the seat beside her. “So, did they ever catch the killer?”

Lips pressed together, I turned my glass around as the three speculated on whether or not the killer in nineteen twelve could have been a vampire. The conversation niggled at me. There was something important about the murders then, a connection to murders now.

Something about Damon’s friend. The history teacher… Alaric…

I sat up, spine locking as I tensed. Esther would use him, _transform_ him. He would be a threat.

I slid out of my chair and stood, attracting three sets of eyes. “Sorry, Rebekah. I have to run.”

“What?” she demanded, brows furrowed as her mouth curled into a displeased frown.

“I’ll see you later this evening.” Before she could protest, I was walking away, back out the Mystic Grill’s door.

It was a Saturday and the streets were busy. I hurried as fast as I could at a human’s pace down the sidewalks, making for the clock tower that stood watch over the rest of the town. It must be the main government building. If I remembered correctly, Alaric was being held for a recent spate of murders. That was what Damon was trying to solve, to help prove his friend innocent.

I had to cross several streets and walk through the small park at the town’s center before I reached the old building. Climbing the stairs, I stepped through the door and found myself inside a large foyer. Across from me was a long desk, a secretary seated behind it. In her early forties, with bright red hair, she looked up and smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Is this where the sheriff’s office is?”

She nodded and pointed towards a sign affixed to one of the walls. “Second floor.”

“Thank you.” I hurried to the sign, gaze roaming the various departments. The sheriff’s office was on the second floor, but the holding cells were in the basement.

There wouldn’t be an easy way in. The sheriff and her deputies would all be on vervain. I’d have to kill the lot of them to reach the cells. That would bring too much attention.

At some point, however, Alaric would be released.

* * *

Twilight had fallen, and the doppelgänger Elena and Rebekah’s blonde boy had long since left the building by the time Alaric Saltzman came striding out the door. He hurried down the concrete steps before zipping his jacket and, sliding both hands into its pockets, setting off eastward along the sidewalk.

I followed. I kept far behind him, trusting my nose more than my eyes to keep track. Even though it was evening, the roads were still busy as he strode through the city proper. I didn’t know the area well enough to pick an ideal location. I waited as long as I dared, until he was coming up to a narrow alleyway.

I risked racing up and grabbing him. Before he realized what was happening, I sped us deeper into the alley, away from the reach of a nearby streetlight. There was a door leading into the western building mere steps away. Otherwise, it was the scent of concrete, old bricks, and exhaust fumes that hung about us.

Wide brown eyes roamed my face in utter confusion before he shoved me back a step. “Who the hell are you?”

I slammed him against a brick wall hard enough to stun him. While his gaze lost focus, I grabbed his hands, found the one with the resurrection ring and wrenched it off.

This jolted him back to awareness. He tried to move away.

I spun him around and held him fast against me, an arm across his throat. “It’s better this way,” I told him.

I could feel his pulse pick up as the adrenalin jumpstarted his heart. He tried wrenching my arm away, but not even a vampire would have managed to loosen my hold, let alone a human man.

I flexed my arm and twisted. His neck popped as the vertebrae separated. He stilled. His heart stalled. His lungs lost their last breath. His muscles relaxed as he went limp in my arms.

I loosened my arms and let Alaric Saltzman’s body crumple to the ground.

* * *

“Thank you _so_ much for backing me up.” Rebekah’s heels made pointed clicks that punctuated her sarcasm as she strode into the parlor.

Brandy in hand, I stared out the window. Night had deepened, though the soft glow of electric lights from the town kept total darkness at bay. Sometime soon they would discover Alaric, if they hadn’t already. I opened my other hand and gazed down at the ring in my palm. How would this change things? Esther wouldn’t give up so easily.

And there was something else I was forgetting. Something important. I sighed, setting the brandy momentarily against my forehead.

Rebekah stopped somewhere behind me. “This dour mood of yours is insufferable, Ashley.”

“So sorry a few hundred years in a coffin has made me poor company, Rebekah.” I took a sip of my drink, savoring its taste.

“Nik daggered me for a hundred. And then another month.” A cork popped as Rebekah opened a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass. “I wasn’t nearly so sulky.”

“Good for you.” Woods surrounded the manor. Should I have hidden the body? The erstwhile Scooby gang would be obsessed with who killed one of their own. Eventually, they would find their way here.

Who was I kidding? Here was the first place they’d start looking.

I took another sip before admitting, “I killed the History teacher today.” I turned to meet Rebekah and her quirked eyebrow. “That’s why I left.”

“The one who babysat Elena?”

I nodded.

Rebekah hmm’d before taking a drink. “Why?”

I opened my palm, revealing the ring. Rebekah studied it from where she stood. “A resurrection ring.”

“Why would you want it?” she wondered, brows pinched together.

“I don’t. It only works for humans who are killed by supernatural beings.” I tightened my hand around it. “But they spend time in the veil before coming back to life. Which gives them time with any spirits trapped on the other side.” I gave her a meaningful look. “Like your mother.”

Rebekah’s lips fell into a tight frown. “You think Esther had something to do with the murders he was accused of?”

I nodded. “I do.” I pinched the ring between my forefinger and thumb, examining the dark stone. “In any case, it’s too powerful to be in their hands.” I glanced at Rebekah. “When I kill someone, I prefer they stay dead.”

“That we can agree on,” she replied with a lift of her own glass. She frowned. “The lot of them are going to whine about this.”

“Let them.” I set the glass down on a side table.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Elena will be heartbroken.” Amusement curled around the words, “Poor thing.”

I let the ring fall back into my palm. “I’m going to finish my book.”

Rebekah waved me off.

I retreated up the stairs to my room. Klaus had made sure it was fully furnished once I’d moved in, including an antique hand-carved vanity. An empty jewelry box sat atop it. I lifted the lid and dropped the resurrection ring inside.

Wandering towards the window, I stared out at the half moon and wondered what Esther’s next trick would be.


	18. The Fool

It was a chilly day out in Mystic Falls. The sound of construction equipment assaulted my senses as crews worked on the Wickery Bridge. A crowd of humans milled around the construction site, some in hardhats, most without. The occasional journalist would wander by, taking pictures of the bridge and the piles of lumber already removed and stored on the bank. The scaffolding and bulldozers and bare earth were a sore spot among the trees and underbrush and the river beyond.

“Missus Mikaelson. What a pleasure.”

Fixing a smile to my face for Mayor Lockwood, I turned from my view of the bridge as the wooden beams were hauled away to be replaced with steel. “I could hardly miss the project’s unveiling.”

“Your husband’s generous donation has made so much possible,” she replied, one of the ugly orange hardhats in her hands.

“Yes. Klaus has always donated generously to architectural projects. He believes that we should always leave a lasting mark.” Let her make of that what she would.

Her smile faltered a bit before reappearing stronger than ever. “Of course.” She looked over my shoulder. “Oh, I see Mister Preston. Excuse me, please.”

I hummed and stepped aside. As the mayor hurried past, I met Rebekah’s gaze over the crowd. Carefully, I maneuvered my way around the mass of humans to her side. “Tell me again why we’re here,” I asked with a sigh.

“To stay in the mayor’s good graces,” Rebekah dutifully informed.

I groaned quietly before turning. A familiar face framed by bronze-red hair drew my gaze. “Is that—”

“Yes, apparently,” Rebekah replied, disapproval thickening her accent.

“What is Sage doing in Mystic Falls?” I wondered. Before Rebekah could reply, I realized at once. “She heard about Finn.”

“Must’ve done.” Rebekah and I watched as a wavering Damon Salvatore made his way to the tall redhead. They greeted each other. “Of course they know each other,” Rebekah said, disgusted. She stepped ahead.

“Where are you going?” I wondered. Rebekah fixed her gaze on Damon Salvatore, who looked three sheets to the wind. My brow rose. “Really?” I said, nose crinkling. “You realize he’s more than likely looking for a distraction?”

“Maybe I am, too,” Rebekah replied before moving off towards the older Salvatore.

I sighed.

* * *

Despite The Mystic Boutique’s unfortunate name, I found its selection appealing. The small clothing shop was one of a handful of stores along the main strip, a stone’s throw from the clock tower. Like most places in the small town. Its interior was light and airy, perfumed with a pleasant potpourri of dried rose hips and lavender.

I was searching through a rack of tops when my smartphone rang. Glancing at the screen, my lips pressed together before I gave in to the inevitable. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Yes, well,” came Klaus’ voice, along with a cacophony of traffic in the background. “Rebekah’s not picking up. Are you any closer to finding that tree?”

I plucked a forest green camisole from the rack and pressed it against my front, evaluating. “Not sure why everyone’s so interested in a tree.”

“So that would be a no.” There was an undercurrent of anger running through his voice. Surprise. “You do realize this tree could end us?” he asked, voice dripping with false pleasantness.

My brows furrowed as I handed the camisole to the shopkeeper compelled to shadow me, holding all the clothes I’d chosen to keep. “End us?”

“Yes, Ashley.” Klaus was nearing the end of his patience. “It’s from the same white oak Esther used to grant our immortality.”

My borrowed blood froze. I turned from the rack, shoulders rising as I spoke quietly into the phone. “What?”

“Ah. And the urgency of the situation finally occurs to her,” Klaus mocked. “Find that tree, love. Preferably before someone else fashions a load of stakes out of it.”

Klaus hung up.

* * *

The sign. Where was the sign?

I pressed the pedal all the way down to the floor, speeding through the outskirts of Mystic Falls as I tried to summon the location from the depths of my memory.

They fashioned stakes from the sign. One of which they would use to kill Finn. We were still linked, thus killing the rest of us.

I slowed and pulled off to the side of the road. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through its contacts. Finding the one I wanted, I tapped the number and waited.

“Hello?”

“Mayor Lockwood,” I replied, forcing myself to smile and hoping it would come across in my voice. Pleasant and not crazed. “I had a quick question.”

“Of course,” she replied.

“The welcome sign to Mystic Falls. I can’t seem to find it,” I said, forcing a light laugh. Pleasant. Not crazed.

“Oh, it was removed for renovation. Sent to the Historical Preservation Society.” she replied. “Or it was supposed to be. With the recent and tragic death of Mister Saltzman, I’m not sure if he retrieved it or not.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“I see,” I forced, slamming on the gas as I turned the wheel sharply to the side. The car bounced as it flung around. Facing back towards the town, I pressed the pedal as far down as it would go. “Thank you so much, Mayor.”

“Please,” she replied, “Call me Carol.”

“Carol.” I said, all fake smiles. “Goodbye.”

* * *

It took me the rest of the afternoon and compelling what felt like half the town before I finally found Alaric’s apartment. The sun had fallen by the time I pulled up to a three-story brick building a few blocks from the business district. According to the man I’d spoken to, Alaric had lived on the second floor.

Fortunately, Elena’s little gang of protectors and friends had yet to clear out its contents. The locks were easy enough to break through to get inside, and with its owner dead, I was free to cross the threshold. The one-bedroom apartment was of a modest size for a single man to keep, despite having lived at Elena’s. The walls were a mixture of brick on the outer walls and plaster on the inner. Bookshelves lined several, stuffed with various tomes—most of which were non-fiction. The rest of his furnishings were dark.

I made for his desk, searching for any evidence that he’d taken the sign to the Historical Society. I found few things except bills, student papers, and old tax records.

I was just flipping past his high school students’ latest essays when my phone rang.

“It’s the wood they’ve removed from the bridge,” came Rebekah’s urgent voice.

I paused, straightening away from Alaric’s desk. “The wood—”

“Yes,” Rebekah said. An engine revved in the background, as if she were driving like a bat out of hell. “Damon Salvatore’s figured it out. That tramp Sage got into my head.”

I hurried out of Alaric’s apartment and sped down the stairs and out to the car. “I hesitate to ask how she managed that.”

“She had Damon distract me,” Rebekah admitted. “For which I will happily make him pay.”

I shut the car door and turned the engine, checking the street with a glance before peeling out. “The bridge isn’t the only source of white oak. The welcome sign into Mystic Falls is made of the same wood.”

“Bloody hell. Where is it?”

“No idea. The Mayor had it sent to the Historical Preservation Society. Whatever that is.” I sped past a red light and ignored the resulting blast of a horn from a car already in my rearview mirror. “I was searching Alaric’s apartment for some hint.”

“Better and better,” Rebekah muttered. “We’ll discuss it once we ensure the wood from the bridge is taken care of.”

“Agreed,” I said, hanging up and tossing the phone aside.

Eyes narrowing, I willed my corvette to go faster.

* * *

Standing in front of a weakening bonfire, the phone rang as Rebekah and I made sure the last of the oak burned to ash. Glancing at the name, I exchanged a look with Rebekah before sliding my thumb across the screen. “Klaus.”

“The oak?”

“The bulk of it is ash.”

“But not all,” he said, displeasure threading throughout his voice.

“No. The welcome sign into town was made of the same wood.” Rebekah and I exchanged another look.

“And where is that?”

“We’re not sure,” I sighed. “But I think Damon Salvatore knows. He’ll likely get his hands on it before we will.”

There was a pointed silence from the other end of the line. “Another bit of forgotten lore?”

“I took care of Alaric,” I replied archly.

“Yes. Well. I’ll be sure to remember that when we’re all desiccating,” Klaus snapped.

I grit my teeth and forced myself not to crumple the phone.

“I wish to speak to Rebekah,” Klaus ordered.

Wordlessly, I handed the phone to her. “Nik.”

“I need you to assist me in convincing Finn to come home.” I heard his reply as clearly as if the phone were still held up to my ear.

“Very well,” Rebekah replied.

“And do tell my beloved that if she can’t remember, she’s not of much use to me out of her box.”

My fists tightened as Rebekah glanced at me. “I’m sure she’s gotten the message, Nik.”

“Good. Because there’s something I’d like her to do.”

* * *

It took Klaus’ contact all the next day to call me with an address.

I had to use the navigator to find my way from Mystic Falls to the small red house in a town an hour outside Mystic Falls. And the young man who lived inside it.

I was told he’d be on vervain. I had to strangle him to unconsciousness before moving him to the passenger seat of the car and speeding back to Mystic Falls before he had a chance to waken. I was ten minutes outside of town when he slowly regained consciousness. “What—” his words cut off as he saw me. He tensed, hand moving towards the door.

I grinned. “Go ahead, Jamie.” Glancing at the speedometer to confirm we were traveling well over eighty, I moved my eyes back to the road. “If you’re that eager to die, I won’t stop you.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Ashley.” I smiled kindly at him. “And I apologize for the whole kidnapping thing, but I need the cooperation of your friend.” I turned my gaze back to the highway. “Soon as I secure her help, you’ll be free to go.”

“Bonnie,” he said, sounding more resigned than upset.

I hummed.

Jamie let out a scoffing laugh before settling into his seat, staring out at the road. “Vampires,” he muttered.

“We are troublesome,” I agreed amiably.

The rest of the drive was spent in pleasant silence but for the purr of the motor.

I programmed in the next address as soon as we reached Mystic Falls. Like most places, I wasn’t familiar with the new layout of the twenty-first century version of the town. I followed the computer-generated voice’s directions to a lovely blue two-story colonial style home not all that far from Elena’s.

“Come along,” I told Jamie as I pushed open the door. I anticipated his attempt to run as soon as his door opened. I stood beside it before he’d even pressed it out an inch. Surprise painted his features before they fell to resignation.

He climbed out of the car. “What now.”

I motioned for him to follow. He did, smart kid.

As we reached the porch, I rung the bell and looked to him. “Don’t struggle and this won’t hurt.”

“What?” he asked, alarm leaking into his words.

Light footsteps of socked feet on carpet approached. I reached up to wrap my arm around his throat and pull him down to my level a moment before the door opened.

“Hello, Bonnie.” Jamie huffed an angry breath as he tried to escape my hold. The wriggling was annoying, like holding on to a struggling cat. Although, the teenager had no claws, so significantly less painful. Still, it would have been nice if he’d continued listening and not struggled as I’d asked.

Bonnie took in her not-brother before her wide green eyes turned to me. “Who—”

“Better question,” I tightened my grip just a tad, enough to choke the boy’s breath off. “What do I want?”

“Stop!” she demanded. I shrugged with my unoccupied shoulder and loosened my grip enough for Jamie to breathe. “What do you want?” she repeated.

I smiled and nodded towards the street, where my red corvette was parked. “For you to come with me. No spells. No tricks. Just a ride back to my place.”

“Why?”

“To do a spell, of course,” I answered, tilting my head. “And then you’ll be free to go.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I’m insulted. A person’s word used to mean something. Besides,” I jerked the boy again to punctuate the point, “do you really have a choice?”

* * *

I pulled the corvette around to the front entrance of the house before parking and exiting the car. Bonnie hesitated before following. “Don’t make me drag you, please.”

After another moment, the passenger door opened and she slipped outside into the late afternoon. The manor loomed before us. I waited until she drew even with me to lead her over and through the front doors.

My heels clicked across the foyer’s marble tile before I turned to the sitting room. “Please,” I said, extending an arm towards the leather sofa. “Have a seat.”

Bonnie glanced at me before lowering herself down. I smiled and crossed to the bar by the window. “Something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Bonnie said, voice tight. Her heart was pounding again, and her muscles were tense as she sat perfectly still on the edge of the cushion.

“Well done.”

Bonnie’s heart jumped as we both turned to the open archway. Klaus leaned against the frame, an old grimoire in hand and a small, pleased grin on his lips as he focused on the witch.

“Klaus,” Bonnie said, hatred and fear smothered beneath a hard-won calm. Such control was impressive, but probably well practiced in a witch.

Klaus’ grin curled higher at one side, before he wandered into the room. “Hello, Bonnie.” He glanced towards me before his sights were for Bonnie alone. “I see you’ve met my wife.”

Bonnie turned to look at me, brows lifted, before they dropped as she gazed back at Klaus. “She said you want me to do a spell.”

“You’re a smart girl,” Klaus replied, lifting the grimoire to show Bonnie. “I’m sure you already know which spell.”

“I’ve no idea how to unlink you,” she answered.

“Not without studying the original spell, no,” he agreed, setting the book down on the coffee table before her with a whump. His brows rose. “Best get to it. The sooner you unlink us, the sooner you may leave.” He paused to lean near to Bonnie, smiling as she tensed before he said, “And don’t try to run.”

Bonnie stared at the grimoire. Klaus straightened back up and jerked his head towards the door.

I crossed the room to his side and joined him as we left the witch to her work.

“Where’s Finn?” I asked once we were far enough from the sitting room that Bonnie wouldn’t overhear. The last I’d heard, he’d been up in his room with Sage.

“Out with Sage.” Klaus replied. “Enjoying the perks of the twenty-first century.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Feel free to join them. I’m sure he’d love a third wheel,” Klaus said as he headed towards the parlor. We passed another open archway, revealing Damon Salvatore strung up on chains, wrists clamped in bear traps, bleeding onto a plastic sheet. I arched a brow as we strode by, and seeing it, Klaus said, “He hurt Rebekah’s feelings apparently.”

“Ah.”

We walked all the way to the back of the house, to the Solaris. A grand piano sat in the middle of the room, several chaise lounges arranged around it. The southern wall was packed with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. A limestone fireplace sat within the eastern wall.

I stopped just inside the threshold. “Are we going to talk?”

“It was my understanding you preferred to sulk,” Klaus returned.

His dig did its job. My ire rose. I breathed until it lowered to a manageable level. “Your attitude of late leaves a lot to be desired too.”

His mouth curled into a small smile as his brows rose. His eyes twinkled at me. “My attitude is exactly as its always been.”

I pierced his disinterest with a flat stare of my own. “No, Klaus. It’s not.”

“Allow me to rephrase,” he replied as he leaned on the piano’s lid. “As it’s always been for the last few centuries.”

A terrible sadness welled within me. Once more, it threatened to overwhelm me. “Its as if we’ve grown estranged overnight.”

“Hardly overnight.” He folded his arms to stare out the windows at the setting sun. “Though I will allow, from your perspective, it might seem that way.” He turned back to face me. “I’ve lived without you for two hundred years. It’s been liberating.”

The way my heart hurt, I wondered if he’d daggered me again. I fought to keep my hands at my sides. “I see.” I blinked against the burn in my eyes as I forced myself to meet his. “Then why do you insist on keeping me here, Klaus?”

“Your knowledge of the future is still useful.” He answered. “And remaining has been as advantageous for you as it is for me.” He straightened from the piano. “Don't worry, Ashley. Elijah will recover from his attack of conscience soon enough, like he always does, and return for you. Then you may run off with him like you originally planned.”

My heart rose to my throat. “I was never running off with Elijah!”

His eyes flashed a moment before he darted before me. “Have you already forgotten your plot mere minutes after awakening?” He scowled down at me. “To leave me alone, always and forever, while staying with my brother? Because _I_ haven't.”

“Why must you always assume the worst of me?” I demanded, fury rising as I realized tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. “As I tried to tell you before you stuck a dagger in me, nothing happened in the garden. And I was not running off with Elijah. I was running from _you_. The man who’d _killed me_ and left me for dead for two hundred years!”

Klaus glared down at me, fury burning behind his stormy eyes. “Don't take me for a fool! Do you think I never saw the looks you shared? The laughter? The affectionate touches?” His teeth clenched before he forced them to relax enough to speak. “Elijah decided to kill me after I daggered you. So don't stand there and tell me there was nothing.”

I grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to meet my eyes with a desperate need to make him understand. I pushed my will into his eyes as if I could compel him. “I love you, Niklaus. Only you.”

Klaus stared at back at me, eyes dark and clouded. “Then you are weak and a fool.” He wrenched my hands away. “As I haven't been for a very long time, _love_.”

* * *

**1435 A.D.  
Villa Medicea di Cafaggiolo**

It was well past mid-morning by the time I finally managed to get my chemise on. Of course, no sooner had it slipped past my thighs then Klaus’ arms wrapped themselves around my middle and lifted me back towards the bed.

“Klaus,” I protested with a laugh. “We’ve already missed the morning meal. Are we to miss midday as well?”

“I’ve little wish to listen to Lippo go on about the quality of Venetian pigments,” Klaus replied into my neck between kisses.

“Liar.” I twisted until we faced each other and took Klaus’ head in my hands, pressing my forehead to his. “You love arguing with Lippo about pigments and anything else.”

He grumbled playfully before slinging an arm around my shoulders and pressing my chest flush with his. Before he could go much further, a knock on our door interrupted his lips’ journey down my neck.

“Pardon, Signore. Signora. Signore Elijah wonders if you’ll be joining them for lunch,” came a small feminine voice.

Klaus’ good mood slipped into a frown. He glared over my shoulder at the door. “Tell my brother he can take his polite inquiries and shove them—”

“Yes, yes we will.” I ignored Klaus’ scowl as I moved away from his lap and the bed, back towards the various gamurra styles of dress hanging in our closet. The servant moved from the door and back down the hall.

Klaus remained in a sour mood as he followed me out of the bed to stride next to me. “Is my brother’s summons so powerful you feel the need to heed it’s call at once?”

I glanced out the corner of my eye at him before returning to contemplate my choices. “I already told you, Klaus. We’ve been missing all morning.” I chose a deep maroon dress with an embroidered golden giornea overdress for the afternoon. With all the artistic eyes about, it was important to be mindful of my color choices. It was a bright, cloudless day outside, and the sun would bring out the copper highlights in my hair. I turned to him and ignored his stormy disposition. “Now. You’ve spent enough time getting me out of dresses, I’m sure you can help me get into them.”

Klaus rolled his eyes but did step up to lace up my bodice after I slipped the gamurra over my head.

* * *

“Klaus! I’m here!”

The shout from downstairs brought me from my memories. I sucked down a breath and wiped my eyes, grateful for the boon of no-run mascara. Standing, I hurried out of my room and down the hall, descending the stairs as Rebekah and Klaus met in the hallway and made for the room Damon was currently being bled within.

“Oh good,” Klaus said as he strode past the open doors, Rebekah and I just behind him. “A hero.”

Standing before his brother and holding a duffle bag, Stefan turned to meet Klaus. Behind him, Damon hung limp from the chains that held him. Blood had dried down his chest and stomach in long red trails along his pale skin.

Klaus lifted his arms from his sides. “What do you want?”

Stefan tossed the bag towards us. Wood clattered as it hit the floor. “I’m here to make a deal.”

“Stefan,” Damon managed to mumble, “what are you doing?”

Stefan ignored him. “Eight stakes made of white oak. The part of Wickery Bridge that you forgot to burn.”

Klaus turned to Rebekah and I, his expression most displeased.

Rebekah shook her head. “That’s impossible.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Stefan assured her.

My gaze flickered towards the bag. “The sign.” Or what was left of it.

Klaus’ glare shifted to Stefan before Stefan added, “Finn’s dead.”

Finn was more of a distant memory. His recent alliance with Esther estranging him further in my estimation. Still, to know he was dead—I shivered as dread wrapped around my lungs and squeezed. Had Klaus not convinced Bonnie to unlink us, Finn’s death could have been all of ours.

Klaus’ eyes narrowed before he leaned away from Stefan as soon as he realized the Salvatore was serious.

Rebekah’s stare was flat as she asked, “You killed my brother?” her voice trembled with anger at the end.

Stefan turned to meet Klaus’ quiet stare. He took a step closer. “Damon in exchange for the last eight weapons that could kill you.”

“There are more,” I softly interjected.

Stefan’s gaze flitted to me. “There aren’t.”

“He lies,” I insisted, my voice still quiet.

Stefan’s brows furrowed as he stared at me.

Klaus’ gaze remained fixed on Stefan. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He slipped past Stefan, striding for Damon’s limp figure. Mindful of the blood pooled on the plastic, Klaus leaned over, until his mouth was poised beside Damon’s ear. “Leave.”

Damon kept his eyes fixed on the floor. “No.”

Stefan turned to watch, eyes troubled.

Klaus leaned towards the door. “Go on. Leave.”

“Nik, he’s my plaything, not yours,” Rebekah objected.

Klaus’ hand struck out, gripping Damon’s neck until the younger vampire groaned in pain. He forced Damon’s head to turn, making their eyes meet. “I said go home.”

Klaus released him.

For a moment, everyone waited until Damon, grunting and groaning, tried to rip his hands free of the bear traps. Klaus stared as Stefan closed his eyes rather than watch his brother rip his hands to shreds as he struggled to pull them free. Deep gouges were dragged further up his wrists to his palms as he managed to pull his hands an inch of the way out.

He was so drained of blood, the furrows failed to bleed.

Damon began to scream.

Klaus turned, a grin on his face. “Alright, stop. Stop.” Damon relaxed at once and an amused Klaus added, “Before you hurt yourself.” Klaus chuckled. “Wow.” Klaus glanced at us before looking back to an exhausted, wincing Damon. “I see you that you can finally be compelled.” He moved a chain aside as he stepped beside Damon once again. “Now.” He took his head and made Damon meet his eyes again. “Minus the stake that’s in my brother, how many more stakes are out there that can kill me?”

As soon as he released Damon’s head, it rolled down until his chin nearly touched his chest. Damon then lifted it to tell Klaus, “Eleven.”

Stefan turned his head, brows low and eyes down.

“Eleven!” Klaus declared. “Really?!” He looked to Stefan. “So not eight, then.”

I stepped forward, close enough to Stefan to say into his ear. “As I said.”

Stefan’s jaw flexed.

Rebekah shook her head. “You really shouldn’t have lied.”

“I’ll get you the other three,” Stefan promised.

“Yeah,” Klaus agreed, “that’d be nice.” He looked back to Damon. “Or since you lied, maybe I’ll just compel your brother to chew out his own tongue.”

Damon’s gaze stayed on the ground, too exhausted to rise.

“What is wrong with you?” Stefan asked, staring at Klaus as if he didn’t realize what Klaus was capable of.

Klaus’ voice rose as he waved a hand at Stefan and asked, “What is wrong with you?!” His hand fell back to his side as he wondered angrily, “Do you really have no appreciation for me? I have given you someone to hate,” he added, stepping around Damon’s blood. “To loathe. A target,” he shouted, pointing to his chest, “for all of your anger. So you don’t have to turn it on yourself.”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed in hate as he watched Klaus rant.

“I have given your life purpose,” Klaus insisted as he stepped back up to Stefan’s side, quietly adding, “as your friend.” He laughed as he strode away. He gestured to the room at large before turning back to face Stefan. “I really think you should be thanking me.”

“ENOUGH!” Stefan shouted, rushing at Klaus and shoving him up against the wall.

He had a stake up and aimed at Klaus’ chest.

Without thought, I raced up behind Stefan, grabbing his wrist and twisting hard enough to break the bones in it and his arm. He grunted in anger and pain as the stake fell from his hand. I crouched quickly to pick it up and grip it in my hand, tight enough there would be no way the younger vampire would be able to pry it from my hold.

Klaus and Stefan glared at one another before Klaus, quietly, warned him to, “Step down. Or you’ll both die.”

Stefan took a breath, eyes shining with hate, before eventually relaxing back and letting Klaus go. He gripped his other arm as the bones shifted and cracked back into place.

“There,” Klaus said. “Now you’ll only have to get me the other two.”

Rebekah scoffed. “This is ridiculous,” she declared, walking to Damon. She reached for the traps holding him up.

“What are you doing?” Klaus asked, passing Stefan and I to confront Rebekah.

Rebekah released the first trap, and Damon grunted as he fell to the side. He would have collapsed all the way to the floor were it not for the trap holding his other hand. Rebekah soon released it and Damon did crumble to his knees. “I brought him here,” she said to Klaus. “I get to release him. My rules now.” She looked to Stefan. “Bring us the stakes and you both live. Take your brother as a sign of good faith.” Picking up the bag of the other stakes, she strode from the room.

Klaus turned to watch her leave. As Stefan’s gaze lifted to him, Klaus held out his arms. “Bring us the stakes.” He moved towards Stefan. “All of them. Or I’ll wage a war against everyone you love.” As he reached Stefan’s side, he quietly threatened, “I hope I’m being clear.”

As he walked back out of the room, he glanced at me.

I met the younger Salvatore’s eyes briefly before following Klaus, stake still in hand.

I heard Stefan pick Damon up, or so I guessed from the groans. Stefan then dragged him down the hall and out the front door.

I followed Klaus to the parlor. Rebekah was already crouched before the fireplace, white oak stakes piled upon the grate. I handed her the one I held before heading for the bar at the back of the room. I smelt lighter fluid and then felt the warmth of fire at my back as Rebekah set the stakes ablaze.

After I’d poured myself a glass of brandy and the fire had time to catch and begin burning the weapons that could kill us, Rebekah said, “I can’t believe Finn is dead.”

Klaus was looking down at Esther’s grimoire left on the table after Bonnie’s departure. “Good riddance. He was an embarrassment, Rebekah.”

Rebekah turned from the fire to stare at Klaus. “He was still your brother. Mind your tongue.”

“Fine,” Klaus returned as he closed the grimoire. He then picked up the case filled with the vials of our blood and zipped it shut. “Let’s all say a prayer for Finn, who slept in a box longer than he lived as a man.” Klaus glanced at Rebekah before adding, “He was a lovesick fool. He’s better off in death.”

Another dagger to my heart. Klaus seemed to have an unending supply. I turned to the window, staring out at the darkness as I tipped my glass back for a deep draught.

“Is that how you would speak of me if I died?” Rebekah asked.

“Well, you let the Salvatores loose with two stakes that can kill us, so I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Klaus pointed out. “And since when did you have a soft spot for them?”

“The Salvatores may fight like dogs, but in the end they would die for each other.” Rebekah replied. “At least they know what family means. You destroyed ours.”

“I wanted a family. They just didn’t want me. And now we’re unlinked. We’re no longer responsible for each other.”

“So, what? Are you leaving?” Rebekah asked.

Klaus replied, “As soon as I get my stakes, I’m gone. I’m going to take Elena and use her blood to create a new family of hybrids.”

“And if I choose to stay?” she demanded.

Klaus paused before saying, “Then you’re just as pathetic as Finn,” before walking off.

Eventually, Rebekah joined me at the bar, breaking the neck off the bottle of whiskey. We spent the hour making sure the stakes were ash, attempting to drink Klaus’ words away, before retiring to our rooms.


	19. Worst Fears

The Salvatores never returned that night, nor the next morning.

Klaus managed to wait until noon before stalking off towards the garage. Hearing his steps moving purposefully through the manor, I hurried to catch up with him.

“You’re not waiting, are you?”

It was a rhetorical question, but one he answered none-the-less. “I’ve given them ample time to bring us the stakes.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “But you shouldn’t go alone.”

He glanced out the corner of his eyes to me as we reached the massive garage that held our fleet of cars, including Klaus’ SUV. “Fine,” he agreed before pulling the driver side door open. I followed into the passenger seat.

We were near enough to the Salvatore boarding house that we wouldn’t have to travel through the town proper, just through the woods on the edge of town past Wickery Bridge. The day was clear and bright. Silence lingered between us, and I stared out the window to watch the trees pass by, remembering a time long ago when it would take so much longer to travel from one home to another.

Klaus knew where the turn to the narrow lane leading up to the boarding house was. The SUV followed the blacktop drive to the Salvatore’s Victorian home. Dappled sunlight threw diamonds across the dashboard as the branches and their leaves stretched far overhead.

Once we reached the sprawling estate, Klaus pulled off to the side of the driveway and we emerged. With the SUV’s engine off, I could hear only one person inside. “One of the brothers is gone,” I observed.

“Damon, if we’re lucky,” Klaus muttered.

“Right. Your obsession with Stefan Salvatore.” We walked the rest of the drive to the great front door. “Should I be jealous?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Klaus quirked a brow.

We reached the door, but instead of knocking, Klaus led us both right in.

The entrance was dark. A plethora of furnishings from several eras lined the long, wood-paneled hallway. My nose crinkled. “They really need to redecorate once a decade, at least.”

Klaus hummed before leading me further down the hallway, shoes tapping across the floorboards. He led me to the long parlor off to the side. The room was better lit, but no better furnished. Another eclectic mishmash of couches, tables, bookshelves, and knickknacks that only managed to avoid over cluttering the place because of the room’s massive size.

Stefan turned from the fireplace as we stepped down a short series of steps, brows furrowed as he took in our appearance. “What—”

“Got tired of waiting,” Klaus explained. “Going to offer us a drink?”

Stefan’s unamused press of lips was answer enough.

“How rude,” Klaus said into the silence before moving off to a free-standing wet bar. I drifted towards the bookshelves, scanning the large collection of tomes. I thought I remembered there was a proper library in the house somewhere as well, though I couldn’t recall where.

“I said I’d deliver the stakes,” Stefan said as Klaus picked up a bottle of bourbon and poured himself a glass.

“Well, we’ve saved you the trip,” Klaus replied, setting the bottle down before picking up another of brandy and filling another glass. Both glasses in hand, he brought the second over to me. After I accepted the glass, he took a sip from his before turning to regard a wary Stefan. “So. Where are they, then?”

Stefan glanced down at the firewood held on the fireplace’s mantel before bending down and, shifting a few logs aside, lifting out a stake.

Klaus’ brow lifted. “Really,” he said, tone dry.

Stefan brought it over, presenting it to Klaus handle-first. Klaus took it, turning it in hand to examine the wood before his eyes lifted back to the younger Salvatore’s. “And the other?”

“We’re not sure.”

Alaric’s darker alter ego had the other stake in the show. With him dead, they had to be holding out on purpose. “Keeping it from us is pointless.”

“You know, I don’t remember you ever mentioning you had a wife,” Stefan said to Klaus before his gaze shifted to meet mine.

Klaus took another long drink before saying, “We were… taking a bit of a pause.”

“Is that what you call it when you put your family in coffins?” Stefan mused as he glanced at Klaus. He looked back to me. “Is that what you called it?”

I summoned a smile. “If you think you’re going to set us against each other,” I said, stepping closer to him, “when you have a weapon that could kill us.” I looked him up and down before advising, “You should probably come up with a Plan B.”

“Mm,” Stefan hummed, holding my stare with his own flat gaze.

Klaus laughed before moving back to the bar. “Now you have me wondering what you’d have made of Stefan when he was much more fun.”

I rolled my eyes before moving away. “I doubt I’d have found him any more impressive.”

Klaus made a show in sucking in a breath. He glanced at Stefan, meeting the other’s steady stare before looking back to me. “Now that’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” he posed as he refilled his glass. “He impressed Rebekah well enough.”

I sent a flat look to Klaus that had him smirking and shrugging a shoulder. “Rippers are little better than beasts.” I set my own glass down on a side table. “Slaves to their baser impulses.”

“Harsh,” Klaus mused. “And a little judgmental.”

“But true.” I turned to regard Stefan. “His attempts to control himself are more interesting.”

“But far less fun,” Klaus replied.

“He’s standing right here,” Stefan complained, arms stretching to either side.

Klaus smiled before moving from the bar towards Stefan. “He is. And yet, still not handing over that stake.” He stepped right up to Stefan, until they were less than a foot apart. “Whatever should we do about that?”

I joined Klaus, taking Stefan Salvatore’s measure. His diet, while noble, left him weakened. Mentally as well as physically. “I wonder what you fear, Stefan Salvatore.”

Klaus slid a glance to me, his lips curling again before he looked back to Stefan. “Oh, I’d get that stake for us, mate, before she gets going.” He leaned forward to say in a stage whisper, “She’s so good it’s scary.”

I met Stefan’s eyes. He stared back unafraid. He believed the vervain in his blood protected him, but I didn’t have to get into his head to paint a picture. “Where is your brother?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Stefan began before saying to Klaus, “but he’s gone on a trip to see an old friend.”

“Alone?”

He paused before meeting my gaze, choosing not to answer.

“No, not alone.” I murmured, remembering the trip he was talking about. Damon and Elena were off to see Jeremy, hoping to ask Rose who’d turned her. “You’ve sent her with. As a test.”

Stefan’s eyes widened minutely. “I don’t know what—”

“She’ll fail.” I summoned the memory of Elena and Damon’s kiss. “Outside a motel room. In the glow of the outdoor lights and a vending machine. She’ll stop fighting what she wants. She’ll grab him, Stefan, and he’ll be all too eager to give in.”

Stefan’s jaw flared, but deep within his gaze, I could see the denial he wanted to speak crumble beneath the uncertainty that had plagued him since his return to Mystic Falls.

“There it is,” I said quietly. “There’s the fear.”

“Losing the girl you love to your brother,” Klaus mused darkly into Stefan’s ear. “Is there anything worse?”

I ignored Klaus’ words, keeping hold of Stefan’s gaze. Stoking the paranoia I saw within as if nurturing a fire. “You couldn’t expect her to still choose you? Not good, kind Elena. Not once she saw what was lurking inside. What’s always waiting.”

“Stop,” Stefan demanded, a low growl rumbling just beneath his words.

There was the Ripper. Unfortunately for him, I couldn’t stop now. “Your brother, though—he’s just _enough_ chaos. He’s _fun_. Always has been. The boy all the girls wanted. Unrestrained.” I tilted my head. “Do you think Elena will compare you both when he takes her, Stefan? Find you wanting?” I twisted the knife just a bit further with, “Because, you know you’ve lost her. So it’s only a matter of time before Damon seduces her into his bed and–”

At two hundred, Stefan’s speed wasn’t anything close to mine. But I let him grab the stake from the back of his jeans and ram me across the room, into the wall. Just as he had with Klaus the night before. Push the Ripper’s buttons, and he would revert to that wild animal.

This time, it was Klaus who held Stefan’s wrist, keeping the glaring, furious vampire from driving the white oak stake he held into my chest.

Klaus was delighted. “I did try to warn you,” he told Stefan before plucking the stake out of his hold.

Stefan gritted his teeth, glare fixed on me.

“Don’t worry, Stefan,” I said, pushing him firmly away. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Klaus chuckled as he spun the stake in his hand.

“Then why are you here with him?” Stefan asked lowly.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Stefan,” Klaus remarked, both stakes pressed together in hand. “You gave it your best shot.” He finished his bourbon before asking, “What are Damon and Elena doing in Denver anyhow?” At Stefan’s look, Klaus explained, “Kol called. I thought I’d have him looking after Jeremy.” Klaus added, “He gets into terrible trouble without something to do.”

Stefan grimaced. “Why does it matter?”

“Call me curious,” Klaus replied, setting his glass down with a thud onto a century old side table.

“Killing Finn killed every vampire in his bloodline,” Stefan admitted. Klaus wasn’t surprised, I’d already told him this centuries ago.

“And you’re trying to discover which one of us you and Damon have descended from,” I finished, smiling a little.

Stefan’s brows furrowed, shadowing his eyes. “I’d rather not find out by dying.”

“Well, no worries, then,” Klaus said, holding up both stakes.

“You’ve got what you came for.” Stefan looked between both of us. “So get the hell out of my house.”

Klaus and I exchanged a glance before I crossed the room to stand beside him. Klaus stared Stefan down for several more seconds before finally turning and striding from the sitting room. I glanced at the brooding vampire standing in the center of the room, eyes fixed on me, before turning and following after.

* * *

I had hoped our successful mission getting the stakes from a reluctant Stefan would convince Klaus to reevaluate his feelings. I stayed out of his way the rest of that night to give him time to ruminate on it. Spent the next day shopping for more clothes, picking out more books and movies I hadn’t seen in centuries.

But Klaus went back to avoiding me. Or at least not seeking out my company.

That changed when he called me down to the parlor later that afternoon.

Heart pounding, I struggled not to speed down to his side. Instead, I set my book down and stood, checking my appearance in the vanity’s mirror before forcing myself to leave my room and head down the stairs at a normal pace.

I found him before an easel, working on a great, dark abstract painting. “Rebekah and I are leaving in the morning.”

The previous excited pounding of my heart stuttered before it suddenly leapt into my throat, choking my breath. I swallowed it back down before asking, “You and Rebekah?”

Klaus’ brush paused in its movement before he turned to meet my stare. “Yes.”

“You’re leaving me behind,” I said, a coldness taking over my limbs as the world around me began to fade.

“Consider this mansion yours to do with as you please.” Klaus removed the brush to beat it within a glass of water. The clink-clink-clink of the glass sang out in the room. “Once you’ve set up your own accounts, send word. I’ll see you receive your share of our wealth.”

I was too numb to even manage tears. My hands curled into fists. “Your hybrids will only disappoint you,” I warned him.

Klaus let his brush fall before twisting to face me instead of the canvas. “Then I’ll kill them.”

“But you’ll still be hurt,” I insisted. “And alone.”

He let out a long, frustrated breath and glared.

“I’m still here, Klaus,” I said, stepping up to him.

Klaus’ eyes stared down into mine, but the emotions normally so open and apparent had been closed off to me. I could not read his blank expression.

“We’re still good together.” I pressed a hand to his chest. “Just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

Klaus said nothing, but his jaw flexed and his temple pulsed.

I leaned into him. “Are you really going to let me go?” I wondered softly.

Klaus’ hand came up to take mine, and for a moment I rejoiced. Until that hand pulled mine away from his chest. “I told you,” he said, voice low, “I let you go a long time ago.” His eyes searched mine, as if looking for some proof of understanding, before he turned back to his painting.

The numbness took over my whole body as I turned from him and headed out of the parlor.

But I did not go back to my room.

* * *

The decade dance was a high schooler’s recreation of a speak easy. Since I had been dead through the twenties, I couldn’t attest to the success of their endeavor. However, looking at the wealth of decorations dripping from the ceiling and lights hung around the room, I had to wonder who funded the school’s events.

Having been unable to find a dress in Mystic Falls, I’d been forced to compel a girl roughly my size to give up hers. It was a black velvet number, embroidered with silver geometric patterns and beads that shined beneath the lights.

But I wasn’t here to impress, only to blend in. I searched the sea of teenage humans, looking for an old, familiar face.

I found Elena on the arms of a Salvatore, of course. Stefan, to be exact. They were talking.

I waited for a pause and then strode over.

The two were gazing at each other in a very romantic way. The sight made my stomach turn. “Elena Gilbert.”

The two tensed, Stefan turning to put himself in front of the girl he loved.

I ignored him, taking in the human’s silver flapper dress and smiled. “Love the outfit.”

She narrowed her eyes as she took me in. “Ashley.”

“You know who I am.” At her nod, I said, “Good. Then when I say I will kill the men you love, you’ll know that I can.”

Elena’s eyes widened in alarm. “What do you want?”

“To talk.” I slid my stare to Stefan. “Alone.”

“No,” he denied, trying to push her further back.

“I’m not asking,” I told her, ignoring him entirely. “I am telling you. If you do not come with me, I will rip out their hearts.” I tilted my head to the side. “Unless you don’t actually _want_ to choose between them.”

“Stefan,” she said, gripping his arm before moving to step around him.

“Elena,” he said, brows pinched together, voice pained.

She looked up at him and nodded. After a moment, he let her go.

Elena took a breath before stepping up beside me. I was impressed with her bravery as she met my gaze, the only sign of her fear in the rabbiting of her heartbeat.

I looked over her shoulder to Stefan. “Follow us and I’ll maim her.” With that, I turned and led her out of the gym.

Our heels clicked along the linoleum floor as I led her down the hall. The lockers echoed our footsteps back at us. The walls were covered in banners and painted mascots. Print outs had been pressed to corkboards proclaiming the dance’s date and other upcoming activities.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” I told her, picking a corner to take and another hall at random. I needed to be far enough away that the Salvatores wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t reach us in time.

Finally, I led her into a classroom at the end of the hallway, breaking the lock on the door. From the material on the walls and the boards, it looked like a history class.

How ironic if I’d inadvertently chosen Alaric’s room.

I turned to Elena before indicating a desk. “Please. Take a seat.”

She carefully stepped around me before slipping into the desk I’d pointed to. “What are you going to do?” big, innocent brown eyes looked up at me from the desk she sat at. In her little flapper outfit.

I smiled, leaning my head back as I grinned at the ceiling. “I have no idea.”

Elena’s heart continued pounding. I probably should have fed before coming, but I wasn’t really thinking all that clearly. “I could turn you.” Her heart picked up as she swallowed. “Oh, don’t act so afraid, Elena.” I twisted around to face her. “No one involves themselves for this long with vampires without facing the possibility—the extreme likelihood—of being turned. In fact, the allure is why humans don’t run screaming.”

“I don’t want—”

“The company you keep says otherwise,” I said, sitting on the edge of the teacher’s desk.

“Klaus would be angry,” she insisted, heart still pounding. “He’d dagger you again.”

I stared out the window. “He would.” I gazed at the parking lot beyond. He came here for Caroline on the show. Would he do the same again? “But he wouldn’t be able to create his army. His family.” I turned back to her. “Wouldn’t that be best for everyone?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why did he dagger you?”

I smiled as I pushed away from the desk and wandered closer to her, enjoying her heightened pulse. “Trying to distract me?” She straightened up in the chair to deny it, but I held up a hand. “Perhaps I could use a distraction. And I do like telling stories.” I grabbed the desk in front of her and spun it around. “Elijah was in love with me,” I said, as if imparting some great secret, before slipping into the desk and sitting across from her. “Maybe still is.”

Elena’s eyes widened.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? Watching someone you care about pine for you.” In that, I commiserated with the younger girl. “And Elijah—it ate him up inside. He did everything he could to enable Klaus’ behavior, because in his eyes, his sin was worse.”

“How do you know—”

I gave her a look. “Same way you knew Damon loved you while you were involved with Stefan, I’d imagine. Touches that lingered too long. Longing gazes when he thought no one was looking.” I sighed as I settled back in my seat. “For eight hundred years this went on.”

“And then Klaus found out?” Elena guessed.

I stared towards the back of the room as if it were a portal into the past. “I think Klaus knew as well as I did. He tried to ignore it as long as he could. Because he trusted me, maybe, and wanted to believe the best of his brother.” My attention shifted back to Elena. “But Klaus grew more paranoid as the centuries went on. And for all his best intentions, sometimes our baser nature gets the best of even noble Elijah.”

* * *

**1746 A.D.  
Palace of Versailles**

_Klaus has always loved the arts. Wherever the most celebrated artists of the era gathered, so did we. In the mid-seventeen hundreds, that was Versailles, the great palace of the Sun King of France, Louis the Fifteenth._

_At the time, the Palace—and some said the country—was run by Louis’ mistress, Jeanne Antoinette, who had become known as Madame de Pompadour. On her say, Louis’ ministers rose and fell. As did the favor of the various courtiers. It was important to retain and keep the mistress’ favor, perhaps even more so than the King’s._

_But Rebekah and I were long practiced at impressing and amusing noblewomen and queens, just as Klaus, Elijah, and Kol could charm the noblemen and kings. And if we could not secure their favor through our company, we could always compel. Although, such tricks weren’t necessary with Madam Pompadour._

_Having a mistress elevated so publicly, I think it made Klaus more paranoid about Elijah and me then he otherwise would have been. The French court was shocked not by Louis’ infidelity, but that Jeanne came from common stock. At the King’s example, infidelity became commonplace among the courtesans, and Versailles a place of hidden nooks and crannies where lovers could easily slip away and cavort._

_One evening, Elijah and I became caught out in the gardens. The grand palatial gardens were as convenient a way for us to feed as for others to make out or make love. But that evening, it had begun to storm while we were still lost within the maze of hedges and flowers, stalking. And I’m no fan of storms._

Another lightning strike thundered through the evening. I startled, feeling my heart pick up. Elijah’s gaze slid to me, an amused glint in his eyes. “Alright?”

I fixed him with a look that made him laugh.

“Are you worried about your silks and chiffon, madame?” he questioned playfully as fat droplets fell out of the sky.

“More about my makeup,” I admitted, aware the heavy cake of white powder that was the fashion would be running down my face. I’d probably look like a drowned clown soon.

Elijah’s gaze took me in, from forehead to the tip of my chin, before his lips lifted into a smile. “Hardly any cause for concern. It merely brings forth your natural beauty.”

I ignored the sharpening of my senses, the renewed awareness of his nearness, shifting my own stare down the grassy aisle between the tall hedges that was quickly becoming soaked by the rain.

Elijah’s sights followed mine before nodding to the side. “I believe they took a right.”

I shot him a sour glance, ignoring his sparkling eyes and lively countenance. There was a wealth of heartbeats all around us. The storm had them all on the move. It was less like shooting fish in a barrel and more like standing amid a cloud of scattered butterflies.

We took off after the couple we had been stalking the latter part of the party. The ground had already softened considerably, and my silk shoes were sinking in the mud as we tracked through the hedges. I could hear the couple laughing ahead of us. We were close.

Rounding a hedge, we found the two French nobles pressed against each other, the man’s face buried in the woman’s considerable cleavage. Their distraction allowed us to come right up to them and, with well-practiced timing, grab the pair before they realized they were no longer alone.

I covered the woman’s mouth, and she screamed into my palm, but it gave Elijah time to compel the man before I did the same to the woman. And then it was blood and rain and thunder and the smell of wet earth and a summer garden.

We drank until their hearts were weak and then compelled them to forget and leave.

Elijah and I watched the pair wander away, back towards the way we’d come. Filled with blood, we took a moment to bask in the feeling of power flowing back into our veins as the life we borrowed suffused and renewed us.

Because of our detour, Elijah and I were among the last of the courtiers within the gardens. The rain was coming down heavier, the wind sometimes driving it sideways down the passageway.

Elijah had no fear of it, but when the lightning struck less than a mile away, the great bang and rumble made me leap. Elijah, ever the gentleman, removed his coat. Outside the fine wool was as soaked as my dress, but the inner lining was drier than my light silks and was considerably warner as he settled it over my shoulders. Rubbing his hands down my back, Elijah moved closer to shield me from the rain and shush my nerves.

We were closer than Elijah usually allowed. His gaze drifted back to my face, dropping to my mouth. His hands began to slow, and then to pull me nearer still. I tensed. Recognizing his intent, I leaned back.

It wasn’t enough.

He bent down and pressed our lips together. I stilled in surprise, then pushed against his chest as my lips stiffened, my head turning as I continued to lean away.

_But of course, we were no longer alone. Klaus had come seeking me—probably because of the storm. What he found, Elijah and I ensconced within the lovers’ gardens, Elijah’s arms around me, lips pressed to mine, confirmed all his fears._

Elijah was yanked away before hitting the ground so hard, mud and grass and dirt exploded outward. Klaus stood over him, his face whiter than the powders we caked onto our skins. His eyes were wide and dark with rage and blood. Fangs bared, a terrible rumble emerged from his chest, as if the wolf Mikael had bound centuries before had momentarily broken through the curse and now stared down at Elijah.

“Brother,” Elijah beseeched.

Klaus launched himself at Elijah, and the two moved at a pace that even I couldn’t keep up with. They flew through the hedges, tearing great holes into the shrubberies. They fought all the way to the center fountain and broke the stone pool containing the water.

I followed them both, yelling all the while for them to stop. But they were possessed by a frenzy beyond anything I’d ever witnessed in either man.

Their fight didn’t stop until Elijah finally fled into the darkness.

And then Klaus turned that fury on me.

* * *

Elena was still staring at me, transfixed, as I surfaced from memory. Although, to me, it was more recent than my memories of the time I’d been born in. “Klaus was beyond reason,” I remembered. “He wouldn’t, maybe couldn’t, hear anything I had to say. In his mind, centuries of suspicions had just come to fruition before him. Elijah and I had betrayed him.” I had stared out the window as I saw into the past. Now, I turned to meet Elena’s stare. “He daggered me that night. He probably would have daggered Elijah, too. I assume Elijah had the sense to leave Versailles before Klaus had the chance.”

Elena’s gaze softened. “It must have been disorienting to wake up so many years later.”

“Let’s just say several moral dilemmas I’d struggled with were suddenly resolved for me.” The question of whether or not to kill Hitler as a baby had become something more than an academic game for me. Klaus had kindly solved that and other quandaries for me.

But by the way her brows pressed together, Elena wasn’t sure what to make of my answer. “Still. It sounds… horrible.”

“I’m not looking for your sympathy, Elena.” I stood from the desk. “I merely wanted time to think.”

Elena leaned back, eyes widening. “What have you decided?”

“I think I’m still pissed at my husband,” I mused.

Elena leapt to her feet, heartbeat picking up again, lungs taking in less air as her breathing sped and shallowed. “Please,” she pleaded, holding out a hand.

“Some things are inevitable you know,” I told her as she retreated all the way into the wall at the back of the classroom, shaking her head as she paled and trembled. “You had to suspect, all this time, that one of them would eventually turn you.”

“No,” she denied.

I lifted my hand and bit into my wrist. “Be grateful I’m not killing you,” I replied as blood dripped to the floor. “Permanently.”

But before I could rush to her and force my blood down her throat, my skull exploded. Or so it felt like as my brain simply burst inside my head. Groaning, my hands came to either side of my head, squeezing it as if to keep it from falling to pieces. As I fell to my knees I turned.

My last view was of Esther standing inside the doorway, chanting. And then all was dark.


End file.
